


Dancing with Victor

by justrae2010



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Ballroom Dancing, But still cameras are everywhere, Cameras are everywhere, Dancing, Dancing Competiton, Falling In Love, Lots of dates, M/M, Miscommunication, Victor is retired from skating, Yuuri skates on the sidelines, strictly AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-01
Updated: 2020-09-06
Packaged: 2020-10-05 02:50:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 57,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20481626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justrae2010/pseuds/justrae2010
Summary: Yuuri shifted awkwardly in his seat in front of the camera. “Um, my name is Yuuri Katsuki. I’m an I.T intern.”His hand reached up to rub at the back of the neck and his round, brown eyes darted around uncertainly. He wasn’t sure where he was supposed to look; at the camera guy, the camera lens, the prompt just to the side…“Say why you decided to do the show,” someone off-camera prompted.Yuuri swallowed thickly.“I spilled coffee on Victor Nikiforov and he wanted to dance with me.”_Strictly Come Dancing AU!Victor is on the brink of getting kicked off the show for being "too good" when he decides to shake things up, get a new partner, and maybe accidentally fall in love along the way...





	1. Salsa

**Author's Note:**

> This work is not beta-ed so please be kind.

Victor had never been hated in his life.

Hell, he’d never even really been disliked. Not really. Usually one flash of his winning smile and heart melting wink was enough to win even the most stubborn of fans over to his side.

But the audience of the new dancing show on TV… yeah, they _ hated _ Victor.

“I’m sorry, Victor,” the producer sighed in his office the day after the airing of the first episode. “It’s not even been a full twenty four hours and already the backlash against having you on the show is just…

Victor Nikiforov sat across the desk from the middle aged, dark haired man, looking as horrified as if he had just slapped him. He was being _ fired. _ He’d never been fired in his entire life.

“It’s not you personally-”

“-it’s that I’m too good.” Victor finished for him.

The other celebrities on the show were politicians, soccer players, pop artists, news presenters – then there was Victor, the one and only figure skater on the show who had managed to get a score miles above the rest for his first performance. At first he’d been chuffed when the judges had said they could barely tell the professional dancer from the amateur. Then he took to Twitter, and his stomach had flipped.

Unfair was the general opinion of the public. Sure, Victor had been a favourite to win the show early on but it seemed the world had underestimated just how easily it seemed he would do it. The others didn’t stand a chance.

In that regard, Victor understood where the producer was coming from. Even without the complaints to the studio, Victor’s too-good performances were enough to sink him – the audience knew he would win and if they already knew, they had no incentive to watch the rest of the show. That was the problem. Bad press the studio could handle; when bad ratings reared its head though, heads rolled.

This time it would be Victor’s.

“You can choose the manner of your departure, of course.” The producer sighed with a smile, like he was doing Victor a favour.

The Russian just stared. “Sorry?”

“The reason that we tell the public for your withdrawal,” the producer explained. _ Of course, _Victor thought. They couldn’t admit to the press and public they were sacking Victor Nikiforov because he was too good a dancer. “Whatever is most convenient for you. Injury, conflicting work schedules, family grievance … something like that.”

_ Something like that _. Victor gulped, feeling a little sick. This couldn’t be happening… “And what if I wanted to stay?”

He liked doing the show. He really did. He enjoyed the glitz and the glamour of being on television. It was fun; all the different wonderful outfits that he didn’t have to pay for and having assistants dote on his hair and makeup for him for the cameras. The training had been nothing. Victor was used to hard work. Even the costumes, hair and makeup wasn’t new to him – but it was new to have someone do it _ for _him and honestly, he liked the attention. He didn’t want it to end. He didn’t want to go back to the same old routine of his retirement.

The producer’s sigh said it all.

Victor was too good to be the ‘amateur’ in the show. It wasn’t fair really. He did no more dancing for his job than the pop stars did, he just happened to be good at it - enough to be mistaken for a professional according to some of the comments he’d seen on Twitter!

His mind raced for something – anything! – to say to keep him in the show. The studio were being kind to let him off gently and give him the choice of how he left to save his reputation any further damage, but Victor honestly didn’t care about that. He just wanted to stay on the show. To do something different. He needed something to do other than look back over his long and fruitful career wistfully. 

His mouth opened, still not sure what he was going to say. “I-”

The click of the door cut him off.

“I’m sorry it took so long, Mr Connor. The machine was busy and I -_ ah! _-”

Victor hadn’t even turned his head before he heard the trip. The catch of breath, the scuff of shoes, the click of the plastic coffee lids clicking out of place, and…

And burning. 

Right down his shoulder.

Victor swore in Russian, jumping in his seat. His hand brushed instinctively over his shoulder - wet with scalding coffee - seeping slowly through his brown jacket to his thin white shirt. It felt thinner than ever in that moment, heat bristling over his pale skin. It tingled at his fingertips too, shaking the brown droplets free with a shake of his hand, not caring where they fell. He ripped his jacket off before more coffee could seep through, plucking the sodden mass of his shirt away from his abused skin.

He’d pulled the jacket off too late though. His leg bobbed to try and distract from the pain oozing into his shoulder, watching his pale skin redden beneath the shirt. His expensive shirt. Very expensive shirt. Ruined.

“O...oh my God, I-I’m so sorry! Let me get some, um-”

Out of the corner of his eye, Victor caught delicate tanned fingers and his hand shot out automatically, closing around the wrist before they could touch his poor shoulder. He wasn’t sure he could bear it.

“It’s okay.” he pushed out through gritted teeth, fingers tightening around the wrist. His eyes flickered up, following the arm. “It’s…”

The words died on his tongue as he looked up into the most beautiful pair of russet brown eyes he’d ever seen. He was dumbfounded. They were stunning - round and glittering, tears glistening in the corners like he was about to cry any second, framed with long black eyelashes. Victor was envious, tongue nipping out instinctively to wet his dry lips. The eyes gleamed with a mortified shame that Victor couldn’t help but feel was a bit too deep for just some spilt coffee.

The boy’s mouth fell open, stumbling for a moment before he finally found his voice again. “I…” his eyes darted down to Victor’s shoulder, breaking the gaze. “I’ll, um…”

Victor felt his own jaw fall open, drinking in the vision leaning over him. He was beautiful. Just gorgeous. Eyes aside, the rest of him was just as mesmerising - right from the unruly mop of black hair on his head down to the dark red staining over his cheeks. The colour looked even brighter against the cream of his polo neck sweater.

The boy tugged his wrist free.

He barely kept his footing as he stumbled back, white plimsolls squeaking against the polished floor. His eyes flashed wide one last time at Victor before they glanced up.

Victor had barely blinked before the boy had bolted. He twisted round in his seat just in time to see the door bounce off the frame with a slam behind the young man - as he walked right into a passing businessman. Victor hadn’t realised the boys flush could get any deeper, but he watched himself get proved wrong, his stumbling apologies echoing through the thin glass walls of the office. An amused smirk curved his lips. He couldn’t help it, watching the boy bow low from the waist, clearly apologising to within an inch of his life. It was absolutely adorable. 

Victor only turned around after the coffee boy disappeared round the corner, practically running. The grin was still smacked on his face. “Who was that?”

Mr Connor glanced up from his desk, pen pausing over the paper he’d been scribbling on. His eyes flickered to the door after the boy, mouth downturning in the corner. That didn’t look like a good sign.

“Intern.” he said in a blunt tone. “First day. Between you and me, it’s not going well. Sorry about that.” He turned his eyes back to Victor, setting the pen down with a soft click and folding his hands over the paperwork. “So, back to the matter at hand.”

That sobered up Victor in a heartbeat. The smile slid off his face.

“I don’t want to go.”

“We’ve already discussed this, Victor....”

“You said I was too good to be an amateur.” Victor leaned forward in his chair, bracing his forearms on his thighs. An idea hit him - a reckless one, but an idea nevertheless. What could he say? He was clutching at straws. “Why can’t I be one of the professionals? The public would believe it.”

Mr Connor sighed. “Because we don’t have another celebrity to match you with.” His palms threw up in the air, leaning back in his chair and crossing one leg over the other behind the desk. “It’s too short notice. You know how long it took for us to confirm schedules for you be able to agree. We don’t have time to hunt for another celebrity before Saturday night. It’s five days from now!”

“Then don’t get a celebrity.”

The words were spilling helplessly out of Victor’s mouth. He didn’t fully know where he was going with this idea yet. Did he? A little. Maybe a little. It wouldn’t matter though if the studio wouldn’t agree though. He needed this show, more than he’d care to admit.

The producer’s mouth shot open - to reject the idea no doubt - but then he paused. After a moment, he closed it again, fingers coming forward to cup his chin. “What would you suggest?”

This time it was Victor’s mouth to fall open.

He waited for the words to hit, seconds ticking by ridiculously loud in his head. Victor was floored at the question. It was a good question. What could he suggest? Pick someone off the street? Someone from the studio? Who could he convince to dance with him on live television just five days from then? Who could he teach a whole routine to in five days - once he had choreographed one!

Could he do it? Yes, he decided quickly. He could. He’d choreographed his ice skating routines back when he competed. How hard could it be to apply it to the dance floor? He’d been good enough to be too good for an amateur - surely as long as he ensured the essential elements were met for the judges, he could blag off the rest with a spin and a flourish? Right? He was sure he could do it, but it wouldn’t mean anything if he didn’t have a partner.

The door banged back open again before Victor could finish his thought, glancing over just in time to see white napkins spill over his damp shoulder.

“I’m so sorry.” The boy apologised again, fingers pressing the tissues over the brown patch of Victor’s shirt. His cheeks were still adorably red. “I don’t know what came over me. I-I’ll pay for a new shirt if the stain doesn’t come out, of course. I just – I’m so sorry!”

Victor bit back a cry of pain, feeling his fragile skin scream at the contact. He was caught by those stunning brown eyes again though, itching to reach out and brush those unshed tears away.

“It’s okay, Yuuri.” Mr Connor said stiffly. “That will be all.”

_ Yuuri _…

Even his name sounded beautiful. Victor could feel himself staring, but he was almost beyond caring as Yuuri kept tending to his shoulder, dabbing the tissues over the stain until there was no more coffee to press out, fingers delicate but firm. His lip quivered - Victor’s heart tugged.

“Him.” 

Yuuri froze.

It took a moment for Victor to realise the word had come from his own mouth. He didn’t regret it though.

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Mr Connor shoot his head up from his paperwork. “What?”

“I want to dance with him.”

The words tumbled out of Victor’s mouth as if somebody else was saying them, but it was definitely his voice echoing in his ears, his lips moving numbly. He watched Yuuri’s round brown eyes widen, dampened with shock. Was that a good or a bad thing?

A scoff from the desk answered him. “He’s an intern.”

Victor didn’t blink away from Yuuri. “I don’t care.” he sighed a little more breathlessly than he was proud of. “I’ll be the professional and he can be my amateur partner.”

“He’s the wrong _ gender _.”

Victor snapped his gaze down at that, brain wracking. The producer had a point...

“Surely, that will give you guys a spin.” He finally said, meeting Mr Connor’s sceptical gaze. He was glad to feel Yuuri’s hands still pressing onto his shoulder, even though there was no more coffee to mop up. “An angle that nobody else had used before. The first all-male couple. I bet the public would be interested.”

He chose his words carefully, wrapping his mind around the angle of the studio. They just wanted a show. He could give them a show...

The producer’s mouth opened… then closed again. Then one more time. Victor could see the mind working behind those focused eyes, rolling up to the ceiling while the producer thought and biting his tongue gently between his teeth. 

Victor fought the urge to grin. He could tell he had already won.

* * *

“Have you ever done salsa before?”

“No.”

Yuuri’s brain was mush as he stood in the middle of the dance studio with Victor, still caught up in the whirlwind of what was happening to him.

The last twenty four hours had been a blur of activity. Between getting measured for costume fittings, getting dancing shoes, signing endless contracts, fixing a schedule, and reshooting the opening credit sequence to include him instead of Victor’s old dance partner – not that Yuuri was really complaining about having to run into Victor’s arms! He was still a bit breathless at the idea, could still feel Victor’s strong arms closing around him mid-air and holding him flush-

“Good,” Victor said from across the studio, dressed in a well fitted black top and a pair of loose jogging bottoms that hung off his hips in a way that was simply mouth-watering. It didn’t help when his hands braced on his hips, leaning his weight lazily on one leg. “We’re going to need you to look a bit rusty.”

Yuuri already felt underwhelming.

He was a vision of grey and black compared to Victor’s silver and charcoal, his own workout clothes feeling significantly bulkier than Victor’s. An arm hugged around his stomach, hoping Victor didn’t pay too much attention to how much of it there actually was.

“I fixed up a routine last night.” The Russian went on, eyes sparkling at the shrinking intern as he stepped forward. “It might need tweaking a little as we go along though.”

The words buzzed in Yuuri’s ear – sounding less like words and more like meaningless sound the more spilled from Victor’s lips. Heat settled heavily on Yuuri’s face, flaring up his cheeks. His shoulders hunched instinctively, eyeing the smooth lines of the floorboards.

“Um,” he gulped hard, fingers twisting at the hem of his shirt. “Will they always be there?”

His eyes flickered up and over to the camera crew in the corner of the studio, camera following Victor’s every step. Every now and then, it jumped to Yuuri – Yuuri felt his flush deepen every time it did.

Victor followed his gaze, smile widening a fraction when he settled on the camera crew. “Just ignore the cameras,” he said, turning back to Yuuri and advancing another few paces. “They just need a few shots of us training. We’ll do some interviews for them later on in the week, talk about what we’re struggling with, what we’re excited about… that kind of thing, you know?”

Only Yuuri didn’t know. He was an I.T intern, fresh out of college. He didn’t exactly have a lot of time for watching dancing shows.

The silence answered Victor’s question for him. He sighed heavily.

“Okay, well just…” a hand raked through his shiny silver bangs, pushing them back from his face. “The sooner we get started, the sooner they’ll go away.”

And boy, was Victor keen to get started!

He couldn’t help it – Yuuri was hot, and cute, and the most adorable thing Victor had ever seen all at the same time. He couldn’t wait to have him in his arms, hand in hand, see the way his hips moved… Victor didn’t waste any more time closing the gap between him and Yuuri, fingers curling through the intern’s and lifting their joined hands to the side. His chest pressed against flush against Yuuri’s, the younger man flinching ever so slightly. Victor didn’t let up, didn’t let go.

His lips curved in a smirk. “Have you ever been this close to anybody before Yuuri?”

The cameras inched closer.

Yuuri’s face was bright red, full pink lips parted and beautiful brown eyes popped wide open. Long, dark eyelashes framed them, dulled ever so slightly by the thick glasses lens propped up in front of them.

“N-no.”

Victor’s slender fingers reached up without much of a second thought, hooking behind Yuuri’s ear and pinching the blue frame of his glasses. A slight adjustment and they slid off his face effortlessly, nothing to hide the naked glitter from Victor’s hungry gaze.

“You won’t be needing these.” he murmured, curling the arms of the glasses across the wide lens and slipping them smoothly into Yuuri’s back pocket. Once they were gone though, his hand didn’t move away. Instead, his fingers smoothed up the small of Yuuri’s back, fingertips fanning ever so slightly beneath the hem of his shirt as he pulled them even closer. His next breath sighed over Yuuri’s lips. “We’re going to need to get close if we’re going to be dancing together.”

Yuuri felt like he was about to short circuit. Blue and silver filled his vision, sparkling and beautiful, Victor leaned in so close that Yuuri could pick out every individual silvery eyelash, framing those cerulean eyes. The warmth of Victor’s palm was leaking through his skin, robbing Yuuri of any rational thought he might have had left. He was lost – slave to the firm hands holding him in place and the playful sparkle in Victor’s gaze tempting him to move. He choked on air, ice rolling down his spine.

Victor pretended not to notice, fingers squeezing gently around Yuuri’s as their knees bumped. “We’re going to do some salsa basics to start with,” he said, voice soft and almost breathless. “See what you can do.”

Step back.

Step forward.

For an hour, that was all Yuuri did. Victor had some Latin Justin Bieber track playing on repeat – a slow salsa beat – and all the while Victor and Yuuri just moved forward and back, correcting little things as they went along. Yuuri’s posture. The sway of his hips. The angle of his foot. The bend of his knee. It was never-ending, always something that Yuuri needed to correct of himself.

And it wasn’t just the steps.

“Are you going to wear these clothes to _ every _ practice?”

“You can get contacts, right? Your eyes look even prettier when you don’t have those glasses hiding them.”

“You need to lose some weight soon or I won’t be able to coach you much for this competition. Okay, little piggy?”

Yuuri hadn’t been under any illusion that this whole dancing thing was going to be easy, but still he hadn’t quite prepared himself to be bombarded with everything so quickly. There was no build up. There was no grasping the generics and fine-tuning later – no, Victor wanted perfection _ now. _

In a way, Yuuri understood. This wasn’t just some class or dance exam – this was a professional TV show. A competition. Victor’s reputation was on the line. Yuuri needed to look good.

But salsa basics quickly became boring after a further two hours of practising the same back and forth. Yuuri wanted to do more.

Still, he couldn’t say that it was unpleasant. Victor’s hand lingered on Yuuri’s hip, a firm steady presence guiding it to curve in just the right way with every step. He was too close. Yuuri could feel the warmth radiating off the retired skater, could feel himself leaning into it, drawn like a magnet.

In their fourth hour, Victor taught Yuuri a three step turn. In was painfully simple – and the way he pulled Yuuri snap against his body when they joined again was simply unfair.

By hour five, the cameras had gone home.

Yuuri didn’t blame them. There was only so much of his basics they could cover in his training video, but so far that seemed to be all he could do. Victor hadn’t even shown him the routine yet – and the performance was on _ Saturday _! Yuuri tried not to gulp too hard when he realised just how short the number of days until he would be on live television, dancing with Victor Nikiforov.

* * *

Tuesday morning, Yuuri was already nearly ready to quit already. He dragged himself into the dance studio feeling as graceful as a sack of potatoes, legs aching somehow from yesterdays drills of _ back and forth, back and forth... _

He’d figured it out last night - the reason Victor hadn’t given him any more steps was because he must be hopeless at the basics. Yuuri knew he needed correcting every now and then, but it must be worse than that if Victor wouldn’t let them move on. It must be. And Victor was too polite to simple say that Yuuri sucked. It weighed heavy on Yuuri’s heart as he reluctantly laced up his dance shoes, wondering if he should ask Victor straight out rather than force the skating legend to put up with a failure like him anymore-

The studio door banged open.

Victor strode through with quick, purposeful strides, large sunglasses hiding the disappointment Yuuri knew must be lurking in his gaze when he saw Yuuri. He didn’t stop though, didn’t look his way, didn’t smile.

For Yuuri, that said it all.

His shoulders hunched instinctively and he swallowed hard, trying not to let his lip quiver as Victor set his bag down in the corner and set up a new salsa song on his phone before he turned to Yuuri.

“Right,” he said, unusually serious as he whipped off his sunglasses with a flick of his hair. His gaze was sharp, determined - Yuuri knew that look. He’d seen it plenty of times watching Victor before he competed. Determination. Confidence. Secretive. He knew something, was up to something … he had a plan. 

It set Yuuri’s mind at rest a little bit. Whatever happened, with that look in Victor’s eye, he wouldn’t be suffering long. It would be quick, sharp, decisive - like a knife cutting through butter -

“Basics?” 

Yuuri still asked. 

It was a reflex, after asking hundreds of times the day before every time he’d expected them to start learning the next level. His back straightened into the posture drilled into him the day before. Even if Victor was going to put Yuuri out of his misery, he could at least savour the fantasy for these last precious moments.

Across the studio, Victor smiled. Secretive, knowing… sexy. Yuuri’s heart skipped a beat as the Russian sauntered closer.

“No,” Victor purred. “This time we’re going to dance.”

Yuuri frowned. “W-what?” 

His shoulders sank in surprise and he was putty in Victor’s hands as the Russian took his hand and raised it higher beside them, his spare hand pressing into the small of Yuuri’s back to pull them flush. Heat scorched over Yuuri’s cheeks at the contact, glad that Victor was pressed so close that he couldn’t see, his lips hovering by Yuuri’s ear. His breath tickled. Yuuri tried desperately to remember how to breathe before he swooned.

“You have really good rhythm, Yuuri.” murmured in his ear, sending shivers down the interns spine. “Your musicality is,” over Yuuri’s shoulder, Victor kissed his fingertips with a flourish that Yuuri could _ feel _, “-perfect! Think you can do it all a bit faster?”

“I-um-” he couldn’t remember his own name with Victor so close, let alone the rest of the words that composed the English language. “Well, yes.” he finally stammered out. “But yesterday-”

“Yesterday was a rouse.”

For a moment, Yuuri just blinked.

Victor’s expression was picture perfect as he leaned his face back enough to look Yuuri in the eye, the model blend of sophisticated suave and rugged up-to-no-good; Yuuri was spellbound.

Victor’s smile curved a touch wider, hands drawing Yuuri in ever close as if their chests weren’t already molded together. Their noses were barely an inch apart. Yuuri was in no hurry to extend that - even more so as the backs of Victor’s fingers traced gracefully over Yuuri’s right cheek, tucking a stray strand of unruly black hair behind his ear.

“Everyone expects that you will be no good,” Victor said, gaze following his fingers as they traced Yuuri’s jaw. “And I want to use that to our advantage. But you have to do the opposite of what the audience expects, Yuuri. How else can you surprise them?”

“B-but the insults-”

“I’m sorry about that. I had to be mean to you. The audience already hate me, but I’d be willing to bet they’ll feel sorry for the poor little intern that Victor is harsh on once they see that tape. They’ll like you before you even hit the dance floor. And they won’t even know it.”

Slowly, the pieces clicked - though it was exceedingly difficult with Victor’s eyes and hands all over him, examining Yuuri like he was a prize doll.

Yuuri could hear his heartbeat in his ears, hoping Victor didn’t notice the way his every second breath caught subtly. His brain was nothing but swimming mush - but bit by bit, it started to understand Victor’s plan. “Y-you played the cameras…”

Even the film crews couldn’t be in on the secret, Yuuri realised. He should have understood before. Victor had always prided himself on surprising the audience when he’d skated, always defying expectations, keeping his seasons fresh and interesting. He was doing the same on the dancefloor, playing the audience's expectations against them. He let the cameras see the lame dancer that the audience wanted to see in Yuuri. But then what? Did it mean that now the cameras were gone, Victor would really start to teach him to dance? Something that would be their secret until Saturday night. Yuuri’s heart beat a little faster at the thought.

“I didn’t want them seeing what we were really up to. Like I said, we want it to be a surprise after all, da?”

Victor’s wink nearly stopped Yuuri’s heartbeat - but it was nothing compared to the swooning rush of blood that fled Yuuri’s head as the pad of Victor’s thumb pressed against his lip, leaning in close enough for Yuuri to taste the morning coffee on his breath. 

Yuuri’s eyes itched to flutter in bliss, but he didn’t dare. He wasn’t willing to miss a second of drowning in Victor’s gaze, not even for the fanboy dying inside of him, fanning himself in the back of his melted mind. Victor’s eyes lingered on Yuuri’s mouth and for a moment, Yuuri wondered if he was just going to close that precious little distance between them and kiss him. Yuuri wouldn’t mind. He wouldn’t mind one bit. He fought the urge to pout his lips in expectation.

“They hate me,” Victor murmured, thumb dragging gently over Yuuri’s bottom lip. “But they are going to _ love _you. I’ll make sure of it.”

* * *

_ “Tell us how you’re finding the dancing,” _ someone off camera prompted the next day.

Yuuri rubbed a hand nervously at the back of his neck. He was glad he could blush pretty much on cue by now - thinking the right things, of the right embarrassing moments - feeling his cheeks warm comfortably. Victor wanted that. Shy, sweet, innocent Yuuri was what he wanted the cameras to see.

The corners of Yuuri’s lips twitched in a nervous smile. “It’s a bit different to computers.”

His head bowed low, blinking up at the camera lens through his batting eyelashes. Just for emphasis, Yuuri very deliberately pushed his glasses slowly further up his nose, blinking doe-eyed behind them.

_ Perfect. _

* * *

“It’s a struggle,” Victor smiled stiffly to the camera with a sigh, head lolling to the side. It took a lot of effort to control the mischievous sparkle just itching to break free, pretending to be exasperated with Yuuri’s apparent lack of progress instead of the fact that he was actually having the time of his life coaching the intern. 

He could feel Yuuri watching him in the mirror from across the studio, practising his salsa basics. _ So perfect _, Victor couldn’t help but think, letting a smile creep through his exterior. It only fanned the excited spark in his heart into a full wildfire blaze. 

He sharpened his gaze for the camera again, letting a twinkle sneak through. “But I’ve got a plan to try and get Yuuri more into the salsa spirit...”

* * *

“He’s perfect, Mom,” Yuuri said in Japanese with the phone smushed between his ear and shoulder as he headed to the front door of his apartment to answer the buzzing doorbell. His roommate must have forgotten his key … again. “No, I mean it - actually perfect! He’s just… oh my God...”

His eyes rolled, visions of Victor earlier that day peeling the hem up from his sweaty shirt to wipe his brow flashing through his mind. The neat line of chiselled abs, packed with pure, heady muscle…

Of course, his family knew about his crush. They’d watched him cry with joy every time he’d gotten a new Victor Nikiforov poster, been unable to call him away from the television set whenever Victor had been performing, seen him all but faint when he’d been given a ticket to see him live in competition once. Of course, they knew. And they knew that dancing with Victor now meant the absolute world to Yuuri.

Even if they had to cheer him on from half a world away.

Yuuri had been the only idiot to dare trying a new life in America, getting a scholarship into an American college once he’d finished high school while his family had stayed behind in Hasetsu with the family business. At the time, it had been the greatest opportunity in the world. Yuuri hadn’t been able to say yes fast enough.

That was before he’d realised how expensive America was. Before he’d realised just how much distance there was between Detroit and Japan. Before he realised that an ‘I.T internship’ actually meant a year of making coffee for the bosses before he actually got to touch a computer.

But it was all he’d had.

Until now.

He rolled his shoulders, still a little stiff from the days practise. Yuuri could feel the grin spreading over his face just thinking about it though. He was getting excited now, excited for Saturday’s show.

“He looks even better than his posters.” Yuuri gushed on shamelessly as he fiddled with the lock on the front door of his apartment. He shoulder barged into it in just the way to lift the lock out of place, door clicking open. “And his hair just –”

The door swung open wide and the rest of Yuuri’s sentence died on his tongue.

He froze, eyes blinking wide.

“…Victor?”

Not just Victor, he quickly realised. Victor Nikiforov, two large cameras, and no fewer than four camera operatives crowded his doorway – all aimed squarely at him.

He almost dropped the phone in shock, fingers fumbling to catch it before it crashed to the floor in a loud, clattering mess - on camera, no less! The little red lights above the monitors beamed out from the dark evening traitorously, filming his every move. A red hot flush washed over his cheeks in a heartbeat, clutching the phone tight to his chest with trembling fingers.

After a stunned moment though, he held it back up to his ear. “Mom?” he said in Japanese, voice only just not shaking. “I’ve got to go…”

He barely heard her reply, clicking the call dead with a mumbled goodbye.

Victor was there.

Dressed in a black trench coat with plain black trousers and black shoes underneath, hair styled with a perfect flick of his bangs and hands dug deep into his pockets to avoid the stinging chill outside. Victor was at Yuuri’s flat. How had he known where Yuuri lived? His grin was like the sun though, warm and glowing and … just perfect.

It took a moment for Yuuri to realise he was staring. He snapped his mouth shut, swallowing hard. “Victor, what-”

“No time to argue, Yuuri,” Victor just said, with the fake enthusiasm in his voice that Yuuri had started to notice only made an appearance when the cameras were around. His hands pulled out of his pockets, settling confidently on his hips. “Go get changed. We’re going dancing.”

He winked.

Actually winked.

Yuuri felt his knees go weak, brain turned to mush in that moment. It was nine o’clock at night and Victor was there, asking him to get changed to go back out dancing again after a day of training? Yuuri wasn’t sure whether to cry or leap for joy. When he remembered the cameras again though, he quickly made his mind up. Cry. Definitely cry. Especially as he noticed the camera pan down the length of his body, Yuuri’s gaze following it with bubbling mortification.

He swore in the back of his head.

A sunflower yellow apron that said ‘_ hot stuff coming through _’ was strapped to his front, matched with dull grey jogging pants, and brown poodle slippers. Poodle slippers. And it was on camera!

It took everything in Yuuri not to slap himself in the face at his own idiocy. 

“I, um… right.”

He’d always thought those cheesy gags on this kind of show were always fake, planned, acted out – then here he was, a living embodiment of embarrassment. This definitely wasn’t planned. Yuuri wracked his brain for when Victor might have mentioned over training it but he came up short, with nothing. He was pretty sure he would remember Victor mentioning showing up at his house to pick him up to go dancing…

Like a date.

With the television crew.

Yuuri scrapped that dreamy thought before it could become something dangerous, hot cheeks betraying him. He couldn’t look Victor in the eye. “O-one second.”

He all but slammed the door in Victor’s face, bouncing back off the uneven lock so the door hung open a crack. It was just long enough to distract them while Yuuri turned tail and bolted back through the apartment, disappearing up the stairs and to his bedroom with a very real slam of his bedroom door. For a moment, his back stayed flattened against the door, listening to the blood pounding in his ears.

And Victor, talking quietly to the camera crew downstairs and earning a round of chuckles at whatever it was he said.

Yuuri groaned hard. What was he going to do?

He wasn’t prepared to have a film crew in his home. He was practically in his pyjamas! His evening had been planned to make dinner, curl up to some Project Runway on Netflix with his roommate, and just vegetate for the night until he had to drag himself down to training the next morning. Dancing hadn’t been a part of it. Let alone going out dancing.

Victor hadn’t been in sportswear. This wasn’t their usual training session. Victor was in nice black jeans and smart black shoes. Nice and casual.

_ Like they were going on a date. _

Yuuri gulped. The pressure was on.

As he tore apart his wardrobe, he suddenly wondered how he’d dared step out the apartment for the last three years or so, wondering if his closet had always been just that ugly. Nothing looked right. Everything was too tight, or too baggy, too casual or too smart. Yuuri wanted to look nice – like Victor always looked nice – but not like he’d made too much effort. It turned out to be harder than he thought.

In the end - after fifteen minutes of manic fumbling, Yuuri threw on some rolled up blue jeans, black plimsolls, with a navy blue top and a green flannel shirt thrown over the top to help battle the cold. A quick hand of styling wax running through his hair and Yuuri was running back down the stairs again, all but panting as he nearly threw himself into Victor in the doorway.

“Ready?” he gasped, hand touching Victor’s upper arm to steady himself. His coat was warm, Yuuri couldn’t help but notice.

Victor’s smile widened.

A less than perfect one carved shakily over Yuuri’s mouth in response as he tugged the apartment door shut behind him.

* * *

The cameras were awkward.

They were large, and heavy, and far from subtle as Victor led Yuuri through the darkened streets, through the crowded nightlife that Yuuri had long since left behind from his college days. Bars were over spilling with students getting their night started – even if it was only a Wednesday night. Eyes followed the cameras, not really built for travelling smoothly down rowdy tight packed streets.

Victor took the opportunity during one particular tight squeeze through a crowd to slip his hand into Yuuri’s.

Yuuri’s cheeks burned.

As soon as they stepped back into quieter streets, the cameras were back, lapping up the witty one liners and winks that Victor shot their way. There was one on Yuuri’s left too. Victor watched out of the corner of his eye, watched the way Yuuri’s blush would darken every time the crew zoomed in on Yuuri’s face in a way that he knew the camera would be able to pick up even in the dark evening light. _ He’s so perfect _, Victor thought with an extra thud of his hear. Yuuri played to his innocent façade so well.

So far, Victor was having the time of his life. Charming Yuuri’s address out of the receptionist at the studio had been a doddle and Victor had had to catch himself when he nearly brought Yuuri round flowers instead of the camera crew. 

_ It wasn’t a date, _ he reminded himself.

But as Yuuri’s fingers squeezed his when they stepped up to the club Victor had led them to, he _ really _wished it could be.

As they left the last of the student area, Yuuri finally cleared his throat, chancing a sideways glance at Victor. He was still holding his hand.

“Um, where are we going?”

A playful smirk danced over Victor’s lips, but he turned to look at the camera – not Yuuri – as he enthusiastically replied. “A salsa bar.”

Yuuri’s eyebrows shot up into his hairline. “A-a what?”

This time, Victor stopped. He dropped Yuuri’s hand in favour of reaching over his shoulder instead, turning to the nearest camera so they both faced it full on and planted on his best smile. “A salsa bar,” he said in a slightly more normal voice, glancing down to Yuuri. Round russet brown orbs stared back up at him. “I’m going to show you the real spirit of salsa, see if we can spice up your moves for Saturday night.”

Yuuri just looked adorable.

His eyes widened round like dinner plates behind his blue framed glasses and Victor felt his heart ache in his chest with adoration. 

They’d already been briefed by the camera crew on what shots they needed for training video. All the things Victor had expected really; a few shots of them dancing, a quick interview of them talking about how the club might help their performance… Victor was hoping to spit it all out in ten minutes. Half the job was already done! After that, they’d be free to do whatever they wanted. Victor was hoping Yuuri would want to stay out even after the cameras were switched off… stay with him.

Victor spun around to get the work over with. The club sat on the corner just behind him and the hard pound of his heartbeat matched his fast, trotting steps as he tugged Yuuri towards it. 

Lights flashed out through the windows like with any other club, but it was only when they jogged up closer that they were able to pick up the Latin rhythm to the modern music oozing from the sound system inside. It set Victor’s blood on fire, itching to just pull Yuuri in his arms and _ dance _. He shot an excited grin over his shoulder. The cameras followed.

Yuuri was heavy on the end of his arm as Victor pulled him inside, warmth wrapping around them as soon as they stepped through the door.

Victor shrugged off his coat.

It distracted the camera crew for a few moments while he slipped on some large, red framed glasses and a black cap over his shimmering silver locks. He didn’t exactly want to get recognised. Especially later, when they lost the cameras...

“Um, Victor…” Yuuri raised his voice to be heard over the music, tugging gently on the sleeve of the Russian’s shirt to get his attention. He blinking up innocently, gaze flickering over to the camera crew still squabbling over who would have to hold Victor’s coat. “W-what do I do?”

_ Right _... Victor had forgotten about that. There was still an act to uphold in front of the studio. For now, at least. 

He eyed the studio crew out of the corner of his eye, leaning over to press his mouth to Yuuri’s ear as he wound a subtle hand around the intern’s waist. His heart sang when Yuuri stepped closer without a hesitation, stepping into the embrace. Victor’s hand pressed a little firmer into the small of Yuuri’s back, holding him close. “Just stay close to me.” he murmured.

They would stick to basics, Victor decided. Stick to the plan, and let the editing team be the ones to make it look fancy. Victor still had a surprise to maintain for Saturday night after all. He wasn’t going to risk the whole competition for the sake of one _ dat _-camera shoot. 

As soon as he lost the audience, he lost his chances of the studio willing to tolerate his little gamble. He lost his time with Yuuri.

The club was busier than Victor would have guessed. The dance floor was packed, all moving to the rich salsa beat rolling over the club. Couples danced together, and people danced alone – all seemingly having a good time, and doing a handful of moves that Yuuri should recognise from their routine. The song was familiar too – something Spanish and Justin Bieber than he’d heard on the radio, something annoyingly catchy with an easy beat to catch.

Out of the corner of his eye, Victor caught they cameras steady. _ Ready _. His eyes linked down with Yuuri’s and nodded.

They both stepped into the beat at the same time. It was simple. Yuuri’s body moved into salsa basics perfectly in match to Victor’s, the Russian feeling the hair on the back of his neck crawl the way it did whenever the cameras were on him. _ Just one song, _ he told himself. Then he could _ really _ dance with Yuuri once the cameras had gone home. Salsa basics didn’t belong in a bar like this. Couples were doing dips, fancy tricks that looked wonderfully challenging and hips moving fast enough to make a man dizzy – salsa basics _ really _didn’t belong there. 

Victor’s heartbeat picked up as Yuuri pressed a little firmer into him under the cameras bearing into them. He spun the intern under his arm just for a moment to be able to catch his breath, smile dancing breathlessly over his lips.

The beat washed over them, beautifully seductive, but Victor could feel Yuuri felt awkward. He moved stiffly, round, uncertain eyes darting over to the edge of the crowd where the cameras lurked, hips frozen against Victor’s hand… for the cameras, it was exactly what they wanted them to see. Only Victor could feel it wasn’t an act this time. Yuuri was uncomfortable. _ Really. _

“I’m sorry, by the way,” Victor found himself saying with a short smile that he didn’t really feel, wrenching Yuuri’s eyes back to him. Victor’s head jerked apologetically. “Me showing up on your doorstep was probably the last thing you wanted...”

“Only what I’ve dreamt about since I was twelve.”

_ Oh, he was perfect. _

Victor didn’t bother fighting the grin that inched across his face - all too real - while Yuuri slapped a hand over his mouth, eyes shooting wide with horror. His feet stopped moving, frozen on the dancefloor.

Victor just pulled him closer, chuckling quietly in his ear. He couldn’t help it. Yuuri really was just _ adorable _. Just when he couldn’t get any cuter. Maybe Yuuri could feel the way Victor’s heart was pounding in his chest, thudding away between them. 

“You’re a fan of figure skating?” Victor asked, even though he already had his answer.

He felt Yuuri’s face heat up against the side of his neck. It only made him smile wider. The backs of Yuuri’s shoulders slacked slightly, stepping lazily back into the music. He was still stiff.

“A-a little.”

It couldn’t get any better, Victor thought, eyes rolling up high and murmuring a silent ‘thank you’ to the ceiling. Normally, fans exhausted him, but this was _ Yuuri _. And Yuuri was a fan. In that one moment, the warm flush radiating off Yuuri’s cheeks made all the pain and hard work of the last decade on the ice more than worth it. 

Victor made his mind up quickly - screw the cameras. 

He scanned a quick glance over at the crew lurking on the edge of the crowd, camera too bulky to break through the line of people that Victor slowly sunk him and Yuuri deeper into. His steps travelled. A nudge here. A quick spin there. Anything to wedge them further into the club, further out of sight.

Then, across the far edge of the room on the other side of the dance floor, Victor caught sight of the bar. His eyes lit up.

“Let’s go!”

“Wait-”

Yuuri didn’t have time to argue before Victor just grabbed his hand and pulled, weaving them through the crowd towards the bar. Sweaty bodies bumped into them and Victor felt a bead of sweat roll down his face, fake glasses slipping down his nose a little, but it wasn’t enough to deter him from his mission. Alcohol always made a date more fun. 

_ Not a date, _Victor quickly reminded himself as he bumped his hip against the bar, glancing over his shoulder at the cameras. Or the lack therefore. 

He beamed down at Yuuri. “That’s better, da?”

He fought the urge to slip the hat off and rake a hand through his hair, breaking his hold on one of Yuuri’s hands to brace a forearm against the bar.

Yuuri’s eyes followed uncertainty. “I, um,” Victor wasn’t sure if Yuuri’s cheeks really darkened a shade of pink of if it was just the change of lights as a new song struck up. His head shook. “I shouldn’t drink. We’ve got training tomorrow.”

Being shot down never felt so good, Victor couldn’t help but think, heart skipping a beat at the tweak of a smile Yuuri shot his way.

Yuuri was thinking about training. Yuuri still wanted to dance with him. Honestly, Victor had had his doubts after the first few days, watching Yuuri shrink up under the cameras, stiffen every time Victor touched him to guide him to the music… but then the cameras disappeared and he just took to it like a duck to water. It was perfect. Better than Victor could have hoped for. He wondered what the hell he’d done right to earn a partner that was as cute as Yuuri Katsuki _ and _could dance. 

Even if he’d scalded Victor’s shoulder off with scorching coffee when they’d first met. Minor detail. Victor barely remembered. 

He wanted to remember this though. Yuuri’s messy black hair, a hand braced against Victor’s chest as they were pushed together amongst the people herding for the bar, the shy smile he shot up at Victor while his cheeks darkened adorably...

“When we win?” 

Victor wondered if his voice really sounded that needy in real life as it sounded in his head in that moment, cursing silently to himself as his cheeks blushed. He couldn’t help it. 

Especially when Yuuri shot the sweetest smile his way in a way that made his knees weak. Victor really was the luckiest man...

“When we win,” Yuuri agreed with a sparkling eye.

* * *

Victor didn’t get his dance - not until the next morning at training. He found it hard to gripe though when Yuuri turned to him after hours of near flawless practise with those ocean deep brown eyes that Victor could happily lose himself in for days…

“Um, Victor,” he said, fingers playing with the hem of his black shirt. “Can I ask you something?”

_ Looking like that _ , Victor thought silently to himself, eyes raking over the way Yuuri’s damp dark shirt clung to the soft curves of his body deliciously. _ Anything. _

Outloud though, he said nothing. He settled for a safe nod instead.

Yuuri’s teeth snagged his lower lip adorably. Victor fought back the whine bubbling to break free in his chest, heart aching.

“I want to do more.”

“You’re already doing amazing-”

“I want to do more though.” Yuuri insisted, voice firmer. “I know we can’t do any lifts but I’ve been researching and,” his eyes dotted around the studio floor as if searching for the words. After a long pause, they flickered back to Victor. “There might be something else we can try.”

Victor’s smile widened. He loved the idea already, ‘yes’ already waiting on his lips. 

* * *

Yuuri stared out from the red velvet lined curtain that hid the backstage on Saturday night with his heart in his mouth, bug eyes nearly popping out of his skull.

This was nothing like the rehearsal.

The lights looked so much brighter. The seats were ridiculously full. The audience clapped as loud as thunder. Suddenly, the thin white shirt Yuuri wore started to feel like an iron cage, closing tight around his lungs and weighing him down in place, too heavy to move. It was stifling. It was terrifying. A ragged breath sucked through his lips. The back of the red curtain blurred in front of him, the only thing that separated him from the cameras and the _ live television feed _streaming.

Yuuri wasn’t sure if he could do it. 

But if he didn’t do it then Victor would be kicked off the show, would never speak to Yuuri again. He didn’t want that. He had to dance. He _ wanted _ to dance-

“Yuuri.”

Yuuri yelped as the fingertips brushed over his shoulder blades, sending shoots of electricity jolting through him. 

He whipped round to wavy tousled silver hair and bright eyes framed with eyelashes just a fraction darker than usual. Was Victor wearing mascara? He shouldn’t be surprised. He recognised the smooth complexion over Victor’s face from what the makeup artist had started to brush over his own cheeks before he’d run out to get a real glimpse of what was to come. The stylists had barely had time to run a hand through his hair to brush it back slightly from his eyes - scruffing it up in a deliberately messy style - before he’d bolted.

Something about the soft, kind shimmer in Victor's eyes just made everything worse somehow though, breath hitching in Yuuri's throat. His eyes started to water. 

Victor’s fingers nudged his gently, smile sweet and perfect. “It’s our turn.”

Yuuri’s hands clapped over his mouth, slapping Victor's hand away as he did so. His skin smarted. It was nothing compared to the way his heart stopped dead at the way Victor's smile faltered, the Russians once bright eyes dulled. 

Swear words bloomed in Yuuri's head, fingers creeping down his face to hover at his chin. _ Oh God _\- what had he done?

“Um, I’m…” 

Words seemed ridiculously complicated in that moment and Yuuri felt all but naked in the black trousers, white button up shirt and braces that he wore. His shoulders hunched like he might be able to just shrink into the ground. He wished more than anything that he could, that he could just take back the last thirty seconds of his life and redo them. 

He wished he could take Victor's hand instead of slap it away. He wished that he could smile and be everything that Victor needed him to be. He wished that he could dance in a way that would make Victor's vision come true. 

In that moment though, it was more likely that he'd be going home before he even hit the dance floor. His stomach curled sickeningly. 

His hands dragged down away from his face and clenched into fists at his side, swallowing down his sickening anxiety with one firm gulp. He held Victors eye all the while, watching them widen in surprise. Yes, he thought. That was what he needed to do. Keep surprising. Keep defying expectations. 

_ For Victor _. 

“I’m going to be the best surprise out there..” he said, voice firm with resolve that even jolted him. “So… dance with me?”

His heart beat hard in his chest, barely able to hear the round of applause from the audience beyond the curtain at the blood pounding in his ears. The couple on the floor was done. He and Victor were up next. Yuuri's knees went weak at the realisation, panic curling afresh in his gut. His resolve was crumbling like paper in water. 

Before it cracked entirely though, he stepped forward. Arms wrapped around Victor’s shoulders and pulled him close before his traitorous brain could talk him out of it, heart skipping a beat as he felt the warmth of Victor's body leak through the thin material of their shirts, inhaling a deep breath of the Russian's heady cologne. Somehow, it made him feel better. His heart started to settle. 

It was intoxicating. It was perfect. Yuuri held him close, savouring the blissful feeling of Victor held firm against him. After their dance, he might not get a chance to feel it again. “Promise?”

His eyes stung. The back of his throat felt hot. Yuuri could feel the distress creeping back into his system with every passing second that Victor just stood there, stiff as a board, with every beat of the shows theme music as it played out the last dancers, skipping off the floor with their final scores. It was sickening. Surely, this was a nightmare. It had to be. 

Then Victor hugged back.

Yuuri’s breath caught as strong arms wrapped back around him, not squeezing or crushing him closer - just holding. Just supporting him, just like he needed. A rush of relief ran through him.

“Of course,” murmured softly against the side of Yuuri’s neck. “I love surprises.”

Yuuri’s heart felt near ready to burst. He clung back for just a moment, one final second breathing in Victor’s comfort, the smile stretching over his face surprising him. He knew it couldn’t last. They had minutes. In the back of his mind, Yuuri could hear the presenter hint at the next dancer - at Victor - make a bad joke, a cheesy pun, just filling in those last final seconds before the lights would hone in on the curtain Victor and Yuuri hid behind in the wings, the music would change, there would be no escape…

Victor pulled back out of Yuuri’s arms, broad smile in place and eyes shining with excitement. Yuuri wanted to feel it too.

Instead, his heart dropped into his stomach.

His smile died on his face.

“Let’s go, Yuuri!”

His eyes bolted wide as Victor’s hand closed around his and pulled before it fully sank in what was happening. When he did, it was too late. 

The rough floor of backstage morphed into smooth wooden panels. The glow of the lights flashed into blinding megawatts. The cheering wasn’t distant anymore. It was thundering in Yuuri’s ears, drowning out the rush of his own maddened heartbeat and Victor’s giggle beside him as he stumbled down the steps to the main floor, Victor’s hand giving one last squeeze before he let go and disappeared in the whirlwind of lights.

Yuuri turned, searching for him. It was hopeless. Everything was white. Bright and impossible, impenetrable. He was lost.

_ “Dancing the salsa, Victor Nikiforov and his partner, Yuuri Katsuki.” _

Yuuri’s heart skipped a beat.

The lights flashed once, Yuuri’s hand shooting over his eyes to protect them from the glare. When it faded, so had the lights. 

And suddenly, he could see _ everything. _

_ “I got a man with two left feet _

_ And when he dances not to the beat,” _

Yuuri didn’t hear the song start until it was half a beat too late, still blinking stunned and ears deafened with the pounding of his own heartbeat. His body froze, panicking. What was he supposed to be doing again? 

_ Victor, _ he thought, the only thing his brain could connect to in that moment. That - and the cameras honing in on him from the corner of the stage. 

He stared back, breath catching in his throat.

_ “I really think that he should know _

_ That his rhythm's go go go.” _

Out of the corner of his eye, Yuuri caught Victor move. Light bounced off his silver hair like starlight, rolling up the sleeves of his white shirt up to his elbows and walking forward in slow, lazy strides. Each step was deliberate, arms outstretched with an obvious sigh to the audience, his shoulders slumping with movement. _ Look at me _ , he was saying. _ Look what I have to deal with. _

Yuuri took one step - and stumbled.

Only it wasn’t an act anymore.

_ “I got a man with two left feet _

_ And when he dances not to the beat,” _

Victor grabbed his hand and pulled, spinning him into a firm hold. The world kept turning even after Yuuri’s chest thumped against Victor’s, strong hands holding his arm and hip doing nothing to steady his dizziness.

The rhythm of the music ramped up.

Yuuri felt like he was going to be sick.

He stepped on instinct, body responding automatically to the music the way it had been trained to over the week.

Back, forward, side to side. Salsa basics. Yuuri could do it in his sleep - but the heart stopping nerves made him forget that, made him forget everything. His hips were stiff. His steps were flat. He only just avoided tripping them both as his shoe brushed over the edge of Victor’s sole, luckily slipping off without incident. He couldn’t believe it; he was a mess.

“Eyes up,” Victor whispered.

Yuuri hadn’t even realised he’d been looking down.

_ “I really think that he should know _

_ That his rhythms go go go,” _

Yuuri stumbled a loose-legged three step turn, practically falling back into Victor’s arms. Victor caught his eye, nodding once. Yuuri could feel his own blink back, round and panicked. Horrified. He was ruining everything...

_ “Does he wash up, never wash up _

_ Does he clean up, no he never cleans up,” _

Victor’s hands guided Yuuri through a stiff crossbody, twisting him to give Yuuri at least some sort of flare and shape while his own body locked up tight. There were none of the loose hips he’d been trained to throw into every step. None of the sultry eyes, the low sweep of his teasing gaze. They’d practised everything so well - and Yuuri could now barely put one foot in front of the other. It was a disaster.

_ He _was a disaster.

As he turned under Victor’s arm, he caught sight of the other dancers up on the balcony, watching them intently. None were smiling. Back on the ground were the judges. One shook their head.

Yuuri felt like crying.

_ “Does he brush up, he never brushed up _

_ He does nothing, the boy does nothing,” _

White noise spilled through Yuuri’s ears. His eyes shot wide as the music disappeared and all he could hear was his own gasp, frightened and terrified. His body kept moving. Stepping in place, turning, kicking out in those little flicks that Victor kept so sharp - only Yuuri looked clumsy and wild next to him, legs slack and more shuffling to where he should be than stepping. He moved on what little instinct was left in his system. 

More lights flashed. Victor’s frown blinked in front of his face, his lips soundlessly curving around three words that just made Yuuri’s breath hitch. Victor’s eyes were ice chipped, hardened with worry and brow creasing in a frown. His hand squeezed Yuuri’s.

Bile clawed at Yuuri’s stomach as he span out of hold, feet stumbling to stop him in time with the song. He sucked in a sharp breath, eyes lingering on Victor beside him.

A firm gaze stared back at him.

Then, Victor _ smiled. _

_ “Work it out now _

_ Work it work it out now,” _

Yuuri was so stunned at the smile flashing his way that the air punched out of his lungs, body slumping limp. He didn’t feel graceful, the lump that he was on the dancefloor – but Victor smiled at him like he was the most dazzling star in the sky. Yuuri wanted to dance for that man, wanted to be worthy of his smile. He had worked until his muscles hurt and his feet bruised and bled. He’d slept with the music piece echoing in his ears and poured his heart and soul into drilling the routine into his system, into being perfect for tonight.

His knees flexed low, rolling his hips in as smooth round circles as he could muster, mirroring Victor’s beside him. He felt ridiculous. He wasn’t sexy like Victor was. Never would be. Beside him, Victor was a vision of seduction, hips moving oh-so temptingly and a hand raking his bangs back from his face, lapping up the attention as the camera zoomed in on him. Taking the attention off of Yuuri.

Yuuri’s jaw tensed.

That wasn’t what he wanted.

_ “Do the mambo shake _

_ it all around now,” _

Irritation spiked through Yuuri’s panic, the numbness washing away and every nerve relighting with fire and zinging sensation in a split second. The adrenalin was kicking in. Yuuri’s blood sparked in his veins. He didn’t want Victor to cover him, to pick up his slack. He didn’t want that. He didn’t need it – he could do this.

Victor didn’t notice the dark look Yuuri shot him though. Instead, he just pulled on Yuuri’s hand, spinning him back in close until Yuuri’s back was flush with Victor’s chest. Yuuri could feel him still smiling over his shoulder at the cameras. Nobody could resist that beautiful smile of his.

Except Yuuri.

He still had a point to prove.

His hips gyrated to the music against Victor’s, turning in one – two – rolls to a beat, making a figure of eight – just moving! It hit every beat, in perfect rhythm. A spark of confidence ran through Yuuri, breath catching in relief at the fast, smooth motion his hips carved against Victor’s body. For the first time of the night, he started to feel sexy.

And he felt Victor’s smile sink into something a little more sinful, feeling it lift the hairs on the back of his neck.

In his head, Yuuri banked that as a plus.

His body rolled with movement even as Victor stepped away, glimpsing a grin so wicked on the Russian’s face that it made something warm curl in Yuuri’s gut. 

Those sharp blue eyes never left him - even as Victor stalked the front row of the audience, clapping his hands in rhythm with the music and encouraging them to do the same. They all did. Nobody could resist him. 

_ “Everybody on the floor, _

_ Let me see you clap your hands,” _

His feet flicked in excited little kicks as he turned back to Yuuri, light dancing in his eyes and a new bounce in his step that Yuuri didn’t remember seeing in rehearsals. It was bold and exciting… 

And Yuuri found himself smiling back, his heartbeat climbing with the music, uncontainable joy spilling gloriously in his chest.

The crescendo hit, and Yuuri let it flood.

_ “I want to see you work _

_ I want to see you move your body in turn,” _

They stepped and turned, hair whipping through the air and steps sharp. Yuuri could feel everything, knew where every inch of his body was moving. His hips arched, waist bending to give him even more shape, catching the glint of Victor’s eyes watching him over his shoulder - just the way he wanted it. It felt right. It felt _ good. _

And when he turned to Victor - the question in the Russian’s eyes - he just nodded. He was ready. He’d been the one to ask Victor for more.

Now he just had to prove it.

“_ I want to see you shake your hips and learn,” _

Yuuri pushes off of Victor’s palm with his own, momentum twisting him into a traveling spin before Victor’s hand caught his own in mid air pulled him back. Their hips dipped and bumped on beat, pushing up on their toes, arms shooting in the air in a dramatic flare.

_ “I want to see you work it, work it, work it out now, _

_ I want to see you work,” _

Victor’s hand grabbed Yuuri’s and they spun - then, he caught his other hand and spun him under his arm the other way. It was fast, and furious. Twist, after twist, angle after angle… and Yuuri loved it. He gave it everything he had, moving quick and sharp to the music, feeling the beat, letting it carry him on closer to the move that had his heart in his mouth with racing adrenaline. 

_ “I want to see you move your body in turn,” _

Yuuri wrapped his arms in tight, surrendering to the spin under Victor’s arm and let it carry back, body bowing over behind him beyond the hold of balance. Thighs tense, abs braced - Yuuri let himself fall.

The air left his lungs in one fell swoop, tips of his hair brushing Victor’s trouser leg as he fell, the world pitching upside down. He fought to not flounder. Instincts screamed. His body longed to lunge out, to catch him before the back of his skull collided with the hardwood of the dance floor the way it had the crash mat so many times in rehearsal, but Yuuri battled them down, letting his eyes close against the flashing lights overhead and -

The top of Victor’s shoe caught the back of Yuuri’s neck, inches away from the floor. He rolled with Yuuri’s fall before he stopped, cushioning the blow. Yuuri’s hair grazed the floorboards.

He breathed a sigh of relief, grinning.

_ “I want to see you shake your hips and learn,” _

The muscles in Yuuri’s legs tensed and he rolled his hips as Victor’s foot lifted - lifting him up - his strong core arching his body to straighten him the rest of the way as Yuuri leapt back onto his feet again.

The crowd went wild.

_ “I want to see you work it, work it, work it out now,” _

Yuuri’s beam met Victor’s, heart battling with his rib cage. His cheeks ached with the force of his grin, delighted. He’d done it! He’d actually done it!

And he was still doing it.

Victor looped him under his arm like lightning, Yuuri’s hair whipping against his face with the speed. It made him crave more, itching to _ move _ faster.

_ “Does he wash up, never wash up _

_ Does he clean up, no he never cleans up,” _

Yuuri let go.

His hips went loose and wild, surrendering to the flow of the music and feeling empowered by the cameras zooming in on them from the fringes of the dance floor instead of cowering. It was insane. It was perfect, and thrilling, and… and Victor’s hand was soft in his, spinning him, twisting, and clinging with gentle delight. 

They danced. They danced like they were in the salsa club - not in rehearsals or national TV. Yuuri barely remembered all that now. All he was aware of was the beat of the music and how he and Victor were made to move in time with it, made to move together.

_ “Does he brush up, he never brushed up _

_ He does nothing, the boy does nothing,” _

They did the same crossbody step from earlier, only this time Yuuri didn’t step - he span. Three sharp rotations in as many half beats, twirling under Victor’s arm until the world was nothing but a blur, feet barely touching the ground before they were turning in yet another spin. Victor’s hand caught him. Yuuri stepped back into it, eyes meeting his partner’s.

_ “Does he wash up, never wash up _

_ Does he clean up, no he never cleans up, _

_ Does he brush up, he never brushed up _

_ He does nothing, the boy does nothing,” _

They did it again and again. All the simple steps from the first half of the routine came back - but with a punch. 

Steps became spins. Turns became full blown twists that snapped back at the last minute, Yuuri moving like a firecracker and all that kept him from sparking loose was Victor’s hand pulling him back in again for another explosive round of fast footwork. He didn’t get time to glance up at the balcony or look to the judges panel. He didn’t need to. Yuuri would show them. He would show them all what he and Victor were made of.

Through the madness, he caught the white flash of Victor’s smile. He was loving it just as much as Yuuri was. The thought just made everything even better.

_ “And if the man can’t dance, he gets no second chance...” _

And then Yuuri’s heart sank all over again, smile sliding. He recognized those lyrics, the winding down of their moves … it was almost over. 

Everything started to steadily slow, starting to come back into focus. Yuuri could make out the flutter of Victor’s eyelashes, the clear shape of his smile. There was more time in their turns now to see those kind of details, stretching out their steps as the once heart racing beat started to settle.

Yuuri didn’t want it to be over.

_ “And if the man can’t dance, he gets no second chance...” _

Victor seemed to realise it at the same time, eyes dampening slightly and smile faltering all of a sudden. Yuuri could practically see the disappointment race through his expression. 

_ “And if the man can’t dance, he gets no second chance...” _

The air dropped out of Yuuri’s lungs as Victor suddenly dipped him in the blink of an eye - leaping gracefully over Yuuri’s leg and straightening him up again from Yuuri’s other side, stealing his breath away. Yuuri felt his heart stop, shocked still in his chest. 

That hadn’t been in rehearsal.

But Victor’s grin, glittering with mischief - yes, he recognised that well.

_ “And if the man can’t dance, he gets no second chance...” _

Victor offered a hand out to him.

Yuuri didn’t hesitate to take it.

Their fingers laced together in a way Yuuri hadn’t intended but didn’t fight, steps light and bouncy as he and Victor trotted across the dancefloor back to the main platform. The music was fading, getting quieter with every passing beat.

_ “And if the man can’t dance, he gets no second chance...” _

They turned and slumped, falling back against the steps leading down to the dancefloor with mock exhaustion and a dramatic flop.

Their hands were still intertwined. 

It all hit Yuuri like a freight train. His chest ached. His lungs rasped. His mouth was dry and the back of his neck sweaty. He hadn’t realised just how exhausted he was until he’d stopped, draped out over the steps of the dance floor while the last of the music drowned away into nothing.

For a moment, there was silence. 

The white noise came back, buzzing in Yuuri’s ears. It was loud and irritating, like insects were buzzing around in his skull, while Victor’s mouth moved with his smile beside him, speaking words that Yuuri couldn’t understand.

Yuuri didn’t have any strength left. Fingers tightened around his and Yuuri didn’t have any will left to fight them as Victor pulled him to his feet, all but dragging him over to the presenter and the judging panel. He glanced over his shoulder every five seconds, beam more brilliant than Yuuri had ever seen it. Yuuri just followed clumsily, with legs like jelly. Were people clapping? He could see it - hands slapping enthusiastically together along the front row - but he still couldn’t hear it.

A new hand took his from Victor’s, fingers smaller and colder. Rings were like ice against Yuuri’s skin and he resisted the urge to just yank his hand back and dive for Victor’s fingers again.

The presenter’s face swam in front of him, all big hair and sparkling dress. Her pink, glossed lips moved, stretched in a wide, fake smile.

Yuuri didn’t hear what she said.

He just gasped for breath, blinking dumbly at the lights. His body rocked suddenly - Victor had put his arm around him, leaning forward to the presenter. He said something. Whatever it was, it made the audience laugh. Yuuri’s lips twitched in a smile, way too late to get away with it.

He could see it in the back of his head what must be happening; the lame jokes, the ‘_ how do you think it went’ _ s, the goading the audience to cheer a ‘ _ they did great, right, folks? _...

Yuuri was deaf to all of it, letting Victor answer for him and handle him like putty, clay for the Russian to mould into the perfect statue for the cameras. Victor had done this before. He knew what they were looking for.

He was jostled back and forth between the Russian’s arm and the presenters clutching fingers that held onto him just a little too tight. Perhaps she was just holding onto him, keeping him on his mark the only way she could. It would make sense - Yuuri couldn’t remember a thing from the rehearsal anymore about his cues and directions. The adrenalin had cleared his mind, turning it all to mush.

Including his knees – they nearly caved when Victor suddenly stepped forward and pulled his arm, trotting across the dance floor and all but dragging Yuuri after him. Yuuri followed, numb. More people, more lights, more clapping hands that Yuuri couldn’t hear the sound to…

Was it some kind of shock?

_ Shock normally came from something bad though _, Yuuri reasoned to himself as he barely picked his feet enough to trot up the winding staircase to the upper interview balcony behind Victor, feeling his arm pull in his shoulder socket. But he hadn’t been that bad, had he? Maybe not great, but not bad...

Faces moved past him in a blur when he hit solid ground again. Yuuri blinked dumbly around him, wishing he could pick out the expressions from the random splashes of colour that whizzed past him, distinguish how his competitors felt about his performance. It might have tipped him off. They’d been all too clear about how they felt about his dancing earlier. He wondered if it was the same now.

Sound started to trickle back into his ears. The lights distracted him from concentrating on it through. Bright lights from below and twinkling lights from above dazzled him, and when the recording light in the large camera flashed red in front of his eyes-

_ Wait, what? _

He blinked at the large round camera face, leaning forward on its wheeled stand to loom in on his face, and Victor’s, and the interviewer – all staring at him…

He heard the woman’s voice blur in his ears, her mouth moving a fraction of a second before the sound hit.

Yuuri frowned. “I-I’m sorry, what?”

He heard his own voice – dry, and hoarse, and stumbling – but he _ heard _it; and he had to fight the urge to flinch at the loud wave of laughter that slapped into him as his brain kicked back into gear, and everything flooded back all at once. Anywhere else he would have slapped his hands over his ears from the noise – but not on national television.

The presenter laughed, her voice softer and kinder to Yuuri’s throbbing skull than the boom of the audience had been. Her smile was gentler than the other presenter’s too, more real…

“I said,” she grinned, angling the microphone back to her from Yuuri for a moment. “Do you think Victor will be getting that hand back any time soon?”

_ Victor… what…. _

Yuuri just frowned.

He heard Victor’s chuckle in his ear blending in with the others, his brain slowly deciphering the woman’s words. _ Nerves, _he thought. His nerves were getting the better of him. He had to calm down.

Then it clicked.

He glanced down between them – throat already running dry with horror – to where the Russian’s fingers curled loose and slack around his while Yuuri held on with a death grip. His knuckles were white, clinging to Victor like his life depended on it. Yuuri let him go in a heartbeat like he burned to touch, undignified squeak bursting from his lips. _ Oh God, _ he breathed in his head, even that voice hissing with mortification. He’d nearly broken the skating legend’s hand on live television in front of the whole world-

“And do you think the judges enjoyed your… _ jiggly _ performance?”

Yuuri’s mind went blank. “I, um-”

“Of course, they did,” Victor cut in confidently, slinging an arm around Yuuri’s shoulders with his newly freed hand. He flashed a brilliant smile to the camera, stealing the scene. Yuuri could have kissed him… “How could they not? Did you see him out there?”

Honestly, Yuuri had forgotten about the judges and the competition until then. He’d wanted to do well out of pride, to not let down Victor and himself in front of national television, but now he remembered. He was dancing for points – not for fun. The buzz from his dance fizzled away, cold, hard dread settling in his gut instead.

“Well, let’s find out,” the interviewer said, turning to the front camera and flashing a more plastic smile. “The scores are in.”

* * *

Backstage, Yuuri felt like he was going to throw up. He stood outside the stage door doubled over, hands braced on his knees and drawing in deep, ragged breaths into his lungs. He was just about keeping it together, tears stinging at the back of his eyes that he just refused to let fall. He couldn’t lose it now, he couldn’t…

“Yuuri?”

A door creaked behind him. Yuuri pressed his eyes shut in a silent groan, chest aching. _ Victor… _

“Yuuri, are you okay?”

His head fell forward, hoping Victor couldn’t see his face. He didn’t want him to see him like this, burning up in shame and anxiety. He’d wanted to make Victor proud… it took everything in him for his voice not to quake. “Y-yeah,” he forced out. “I just … I need a minute.”

It wasn’t a lie.

It may not be the whole truth, but it wasn’t a lie. He needed to compose himself before he went back in, before he faced Victor, try to convince himself he wasn’t as devastated as he really was-

“Twenty five is not a bad score, Yuuri.”

The lump lodged in Yuuri’s throat grew thicker and tighter, battling the sob fighting its way out of his chest. He gasped, hoping Victor didn’t notice.

_ Twenty five _… it was hardly an impressive score, out of forty. It certainly wasn’t something for him to be proud of, let alone Victor….

He swallowed hard, forcing himself together. “What-” he half didn’t want to know, didn’t want to ask…. but he had to. “What did they say?”

A moment of quiet stretched on just a little too long for Yuuri’s liking.

He didn’t remember the judges. He couldn’t remember who gave what score, what they said, whether it was good or bad… Yuuri had just taken that final number and shut down, Victor swooping in at the right times to save him when Yuuri just stared slack jawed in response to the interviewer’s questions.

“The usual,” Victor finally said, tone flippant. “A little flatfooted at times, could have had more hip movement…

Yuuri squeezed his eyes shut, trying not to cry. He knew it…

“But by the end they loved it!”

He didn’t believe it. Victor was just saying that to be nice, to cheer him up before he was put in front of a camera again and eliminated from the competition. Yuuri wasn’t stupid. He was already at a disadvantage by not being a celebrity. If he didn’t have good dancing to get him through, what did he have?

He forced down his disappointment, running his hands over his face and straightening up again. He didn’t turn round though. He couldn’t…

“I could have done better.”

Deep down, he knew he could have. He should have been more relaxed, more flexible – the way he’d been in practise! Instead he’d been stiff and awkward, a plank of wood shuffling over the dance floor. He could have done better. He _ should _have done better.

He startled as warmth smothered his cheeks, gentle but firm fingers prising his face to look up. Yuuri blinked right up into Victor’s brilliant, sparkling eyes – stern and serious.

“You did great, Yuuri,” he said, voice like molten honey despite the intensity of his eyes. “Everybody else has had two weeks boot camp and an extra week of competition to you. You’ve just stepped right in the middle of everything and you still manage to be better than half of them. You’re fine.”

His eyes gleamed with honestly that Yuuri wanted to believe so much, longed for the words to be able to sooth the tightness in his chest… but it couldn’t.

“But it’s votes,” he spilled in panic, eyes widening as he envisioned himself getting kicked off, whether he’d downright cry when he failed, or faint on television, or- “What if I don’t get enough votes-”

Victor just smiled, thumb grazing over his cheek.

“I believe in you.”

* * *

Yuuri felt like he was melting under the heat of the spotlight. Every competitor had one shining down on them in the middle of the dancefloor, brilliant and white and unavoidable. Victor wasn’t helping – standing behind Yuuri as he’d been instructed to, hands on Yuuri’s waist and hips in a gesture that was supposed to look supportive, but to Yuuri just felt pressuring, pinning him in place.

His breath came short and sharp, but he didn’t dare open his mouth for the world to see it, forcing his chest still and his panic quiet.

It was the moment of truth.

He hated the dramatics as the safe couples were read out, painfully slow as they drew out the intensity of the moment. Yuuri understood it – hell, he even _ enjoyed _it when he was on the other side of the screen!

Now, he honestly felt like he might faint on the spot, heart hammering so hard in his chest that it hurt.

More lights blacked out, more safe couples.

There was frighteningly few left with lights one – one couple already in red, the sign that they were one of the two in the bottom. They’d danced a cha cha – not a bad cha cha either, Yuuri hadn’t thought, certainly technically better than his salsa. Maybe they’d be in the dance off together, and then Yuuri wouldn’t stand a chance-

_ “Victor and Yuuri!” _

Yuuri’s eyes had barely flashed wide at hearing his name before he was plunged into darkness, heart skipping a beat and panic flaring through him for one sharp moment.

Until he remembered what it meant.

His light had gone off.

He was _ safe. _

The breath of relief ripped through him and he sagged in Victor’s arms, hearing the Russian whispering happily in his ear behind him. Yuuri couldn’t understand what he was saying, but he understood the fast, excited tone – and the way Victor span him around in his arms and crushed him in a tight hug.

He’d done it.

Then, he cried.

* * *

“To Yuuri Katsuki!” Victor half yelled, clumsily raising his shot glass up from the bar in toast and spilling half of it in the protest. “The best dancing intern I know!”

Yuuri didn’t care.

His cheeks ran too red and his heart too fit to burst to care about the vodka splashing on his sneakers, giggling in pride and embarrassment at Victor’s all too genuinely happy grin, at the glorious sparkle in the Russian’s eyes. His fingers crept over his mouth shyly, more colour spilling over the bridge of his nose.

“I’m the only dancing intern you know!” he shouted back over the music – the thick salsa beat running hot and heavy through his veins. Their first three shots probably hadn’t helped…

He struggled to feel guilty though – not when just a few hours ago he’d done it, gotten through to the next round of a televised dancing competition with celebrities that were more famous and talented than Yuuri could ever hope to be... yet he was with them. Standing shoulder to shoulder with them through sheer determination and luck.

And the man swaying in front of him.

_ Victor _…

It was probably the alcohol, Yuuri thought as Victor’s hand found his waist, eyes glowing a little too softly for him to pass off as just a proud coach.

But he was drunk too. Both drunk and happy in the salsa bar that they’d come to for his promotional shoot for the training video – only now, he wasn’t just some rookie. He was a dancer. And actual dancer, on an actual television show, with Victor Nikiforov…

His breath caught as Victor’s thumb dragged over Yuuri’s bottom lip, snagging it to the side ever so slightly. Heat flushed through him, sudden and unexpected.

He never wanted Victor to let go of that lip.

“You’re the best,” Victor said anyway, his vodka tinged breath washing over Yuuri’s mouth in a slow, warm drag.

It was intoxicating, Yuuri’s eyes darkening with_ want _.

And between that and the vodka, he had zero regrets about pushing up on his toes, slinging an arm around Victor’s shoulders, and mashing their mouths together in a rough, messy kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the song I envisioned for this is [Alesha Dixon's Boy Does Nothing](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nAeLZs1JSR8) because it's one of the songs I used to practise to back in the days when I did ballroom and latin dancing.
> 
> Thanks for reading and hope you enjoyed it!


	2. Foxtrot

Yuuri woke up with a pounding headache, the driest mouth in the universe, and a face buried in bed sheets that definitely felt a hell of a lot softer than his own bargain sale furniture. They muffled his groan as he roused himself awake, head thick and legs tangled. The comforter was thin and silky, smooth against the bare skin of Yuuri’s legs and-

Yuuri’s eyes snapped open.

_ What? _

He bolted upright in the bed and ripped the covers back - the hot pink covers that  _ definitely  _ weren’t his - to reveal him in nothing but his simple black underwear underneath, jeans and shirt from the night before just ….

_ ...strewn across the bedroom floor _ , Yuuri quickly realised, eyes straying beyond the edge of the bed to the rest of his surroundings. He found his jeans, crumpled in a pile. His shirt was much the same, by the door. The half-cocked door, with a loosened tie hanging from the doorknob. Wasn’t that an old frat sign or something for getting laid?

Yuuri’s hands slapped over his mouth, muffling his squeak. “Oh God…” he hissed through his fingers. 

What had he done?

He couldn’t remember anything about the night before. Just the bar, drinking with Victor, a whirlwind of dancing, music, and maybe a little throwing up in the bathroom at questionable hours of the morning… 

His skin felt clammy - the sign of a good night out and a desperate need of a shower - and his eyes squinted, glasses missing. Air whistled through his lungs in short sharp bursts, staving off the throes of full-fledged panic only just by trying to piece together the dots of his surroundings, gathering information. The room was neat aside from his discarded clothes, sunlight filtering through the pale blinds and spilling over the floor. The street outside looked familiar - but he couldn’t piece how, not enough to figure out where he was.

He all but scrambled out of the bed, grabbing desperately for his jeans and hauling them over his legs. His breaths still came heavy, heart hammering in his chest.

What had he done?

What had happened?

Last he remembered was dancing with Victor, but he wouldn’t have just left Victor in the club, would he? Where was he? Yuuri didn’t remember a thing...

“Oh, you’re up.”

Yuuri’s hand froze reaching for his shirt, heart dropping into his stomach with horror at the voice from the doorway. He knew that voice. His brain cells barely connected, but he  _ knew _ that voice.

He looked up slowly – and died a little inside.

Victor leaned casually in the doorway shoulder braced casually against the door frame and two steaming mugs – that smelled like coffee – in his hands.

He looked ridiculously good - Yuuri couldn’t help but think, jaw dropping - considering how much he remembered Victor drinking even before his memory cut out. His hair was still damp, wavy bangs hovering over his left eye and dressed in skinny jeans and a t-shirt that looked moulded to his body. His eyes were bright, face fresh - and the smile that stretched over his lips just made Yuuri’s insides melt.

Slowly, the pieces clicked.

He was in Victor’s room. 

He was in Victor’s apartment.

He wasn’t sure he wanted to know how he ended up in Victor’s bed in nothing but  his underwear...

“I heard the perfect song for our next routine at the coffee shop,” Victor said as if nothing was wrong, smile light and carefree as he crossed the bedroom around Yuuri still crouched on the floor and perched himself on the edge of the bed, folding one leg over the other. “A nice romantic foxtrot...”

Yuuri’s courage broke at the word  _ romantic _ .

“I-I’ve got to go,” Yuuri fumbled, scrambling to pull his jeans up and thanking God above when he felt his wallet and keys still in the back pockets. His shirt ripped over his head, feeling the stitches strain in his haste. 

He didn’t stop though. He just muttered his apologies over and over again as he wrenched himself back together and picked out his clothes, bowing with his ‘ _ sorry, sorry _ ’ like the awkward man he was as he all but tripped himself out of the bedroom. He caught Victor’s smile slip as he went, silently cursing himself for causing it as he hurriedly nudged his shoes on by the front door.

* * *

Victor stared stunned at the empty doorway long after Yuuri had gone, feeling the heat from the coffee mugs wane as the more time passed.

What had happened?

It wasn’t exactly the romantic morning he’d imagined after Yuuri had kissed him the night before. Victor had had more of a lazy morning over coffee in mind, he’d make Yuuri pancakes, they’d take his dog on a walk, and share another sweet kiss over a romantic movie, curled up on Victor’s sofa...or not, it seemed.

He tried not to feel disappointed as he nudged himself back up the bed and set Yuuri’s coffee on the nightstand, curling up against the headboard with his own mug. He blew over the hot before he took a sip. 

Yuuri must just be busy, Victor told himself, swallowing his coffee with a quiet groan of appreciation. It certainly helped his headache - God only knew what Yuuri must be feeling like, after how much more than Victor he’d drank the night before! He’d been all but passed out in Victor’s arms when Victor had practically carried him back to his apartment - the closer of the two at the time Yuuri had reached his limit. It had made more sense to bring him to whatever bed was closest to pass out on at that point.

Victor had no regrets. The pressure of Yuuri’s clumsy, haphazard kiss was still ghosting over his lips, rough, and firm, and… perfect.

His finger traced over his lower lip absentmindedly, remembering.

He wanted another one.

The song from the cafe was still in his head, humming quietly to himself as he reached for Yuuri’s folded blue glasses on the nightstand. He’d forgotten them.

Victor just smiled to himself, tucking his legs underneath him and admiring the bright blue frames staring back at him. Yuuri would like the song, Victor was sure. It was perfect for them, absolutely perfect. He’d give Yuuri his glasses back, they’d dance sweet and romantic like he’d always dreamed of, and maybe - just maybe - Victor might get that second kiss he so desperately wanted.

* * *

The contact lenses itched his eyes on Monday morning as Yuuri dragged himself into the dance studio - his punishment for losing his glasses on his boozy night out with Victor over the weekend – just one of many reasons that the night had been a colossal mistake on his part! He wasn’t sure what he was going to do. He didn’t have the spare money to afford another pair.

How much was he getting paid to do this show again?

Nowhere near as much as he should.

It was a depressing thought as he heaved the dance studio door open, music already hitting his ears the second the door cracked. Slow, old school jazz.

_ Michael Buble _ , he recognised easily.

_ “All I do is dream of you the whole night through…” _

The song flowed, gentle and slow while Yuuri easily found Victor in the middle of the floor, arms reached out as he danced with his imaginary partner in long, graceful strides. It was nothing like the salsa. This was all tall, proper posture, delicate lines… romantic…

Yuuri swallowed hard.

* * *

Yuuri was regretting his life choices.

Every careful touch and gentle hold had him wondering just what he’d said to Victor on their night out for him to treat him so carefully. Yuuri just prayed it wasn’t the posters. Please dear God, don’t say he’d told Victor his childhood bedroom was plastered full of posters of him-

“Slow...slow… quick, quick, slow… slow…” 

Victor’s voice was quiet, following the rhythm of the music. Yuuri realised he was falling out of time.

_ Foxtrot _ .

That was their dance that week. Slow, romantic, graceful… and Yuuri pressed right up against Victor with barely a breath of space between their bodies. He was going to die.

“Remember, Yuuri,” Victor said when they were in hold, his arms a strong frame around Yuuri and voice smooth like melted butter. “The foxtrot is all about fluidity. Long, graceful strides – and then short, fun ones. Slow...slow… quick, quick, slow…”

Yuuri was slowly getting the hang of it.

His feet followed well enough… but the moment his brain remembered that it was Victor Nikiforov’s arms that held him close, it all went to mush. He couldn’t hear the music. He couldn’t feel his knees. He couldn’t help the urge to just surge forward and feel more of his mentor’s figure and explore the lean lines beneath the Russian’s t shirt up close.

“Remember,” Victor’s voice snapped Yuuri out of his daydream. “Look for the bird on your left shoulder out of the corner of your eye - that should help get you the right lean. And breathe into your rise and fall. Stretch up through your waist with every step.”

Yuuri tried to follow the advice. 

He tried to keep his hands soft in Victor’s, tried to lift his torso with his inhale and relax his shoulders – but then Victor would step into his space, brushing the inside of his knee and Yuuri would forget his own name, let alone the Foxtrot basics Victor was trying to drill into him.

“You’re not very comfortable with this, are you?” the Russian chuckled in Yuuri’s ear when Yuuri finally stumbled along, squeezing his hands to guide him around a heel turn. 

Yuuri swallowed thickly. 

He hadn’t meant to make it that obvious… but of course, it was obvious! How could it be anything but when Yuuri was avoiding Victor’s eye, was stumbling over his own feet, stiff in Victor’s arms and arching his spine in a curve the wrong way to try and shy away from the intimate contact of their bodies… yeah, Yuuri conceded in his head with hot cheeks, ducking his eyes low. It was very obvious.

The salsa hadn’t been so bad. That had been all fast steps, fleeting touches, flirting – but from a distance. They held hands to connect their spins every now and then – even in hold their bodies had had space apart to allow for the flamboyant hip movements! 

This was different. 

This was romantic like Yuuri had never experienced before, an intimacy that he’d never even considered. Honestly, he hadn’t thought he’d be in the show long enough for him to need to…

Victor was clearly a lot more confident with it than Yuuri was. His hands were soft, his spine tall and proud, head looking off gracefully over Yuuri’s shoulder with an air of calm confidence that Yuuri couldn’t dream of matching. He wasn’t a playboy like Victor Nikiforov. He hadn’t had scores of lovers with dates plastered in the magazines. He’d never even had his first kiss! 

“Um, Victor,” Yuuri heard himself say through his panicked thoughts, feeling his mouth move and hearing his voice but not remembering deciding to speak. It made his heart pick up in his chest, hammering against his rib cage. What was he doing? “I-I’m sorry for running out on you yesterday. I kind of, um,” –  _ fled in terror – _ “Panicked.”

He felt a nerve in Victor’s jaw twitch over his shoulder. His heart sank bitterly – oh God, what had he done…

“It’s okay,” Victor finally said stiffly, accent clipping the words slightly. “I figured as much.”

He didn’t sound pleased.

Yuuri guessed he couldn’t really blame him – he was Victor Nikiforov. Having to drag Yuuri home because he’d gotten too drunk to remember his own address had probably gotten in the way of him picking up more favourable company for himself at the bar. Hauling home a barely conscious Yuuri was undoubtedly a huge disappointment compared to the hot dancer Victor could have spent his night with instead.

Yuuri’s chin ducked lower, blinking fast down at the floor.

He’d screwed up. 

Victor was mad at him – for what, Yuuri didn’t know. He was afraid to ask. It could be more than the night out. It could be the routine. Yuuri was still stumbling a little, his posture slipping every time his balance wobbled or he fumbled a step. Maybe Victor was reconsidering his choice of dance partner, wondering if it was too late to accept the studio’s offer of a withdrawal-

“I don’t regret that night, Yuuri,” Victor suddenly said, wrenching Yuuri from his thoughts. His voice was surprisingly soft. 

It took everything in Yuuri to keep his head down.

His neck jerked on impulse to look up, but Yuuri battled it down. He wasn’t brave enough to see whatever look might be in Victor’s eyes – irritation, or resentment… no, he was better off sticking to the floor. 

“I don’t… I’m  _ glad _ it happened,” Victor went on anyway. “I wanted it to happen. You didn’t make me do anything I didn’t want to do…”

Yuuri didn’t know what to say.

A finger curled underneath his chin, gently tilting his face upwards. Yuuri didn’t even have time to gasp before Victor’s piercing blue eyes were gazing into his.

They weren’t as stormy as he had been expecting.

Yuuri still looked away though, angling his chin out of Victor’s touch. He couldn’t meet his eye. He just couldn’t. 

“We should get back to practising,” he mumbled, cheeks hot.

For a moment, Victor didn’t move. 

The air between them was stale and stiff, Yuuri not brave enough to break it himself. He’d already done a good job of ruining everything else – Victor’s brooding silence didn’t need to be something else to add to the list. 

Victor just straightened his frame, squeezed Yuuri’s hands, and danced.

* * *

“I don’t have much experience with romance.” Yuuri confessed, squirming a little where he stood under the camera in the corner of the studio. “It was never really a priority for me. I mean I’ve barely even kissed-”

_ “Whereas Victor has had quite a few romances, yes?” _ the woman behind the camera prompted, cutting Yuuri short.

Victor tried his best not to pout. Interrupting Yuuri when he was just about to tell the world about how he’d felt about him, about their kiss that Yuuri had conveniently not brought up until that point … maybe he was just being shy. That was what Victor wanted to believe – rather than Yuuri regret it, be ashamed of it, wish it had never happened…

His patience was running thin though.

“I think it’s safe to say I have more experience than Yuuri in love,” he said smoothly to the camera to distract himself. “But I’m sure Yuuri has left more than one broke heart along the way to call upon for the dance, hm?”

_Yuuri must be quite the heart breaker in America_, Victor thought. Looking like that, there was no way he couldn’t be… 

Yuuri just blushed and ducked his head.

Victor felt smug. “Let’s see, my first lover was-”

* * *

Yuuri regretted their kiss.

It was all Victor could think about as he spun Yuuri around the dance studio with carefully placed precision, aware of every inch that their hands connected, every glance Yuuri sent his way, the tight knot to Yuuri’s posture… Victor noticed everything, and he wished he didn’t.

He was just too good at it. 

All his life he’d analysed his every breath, every movement – everything required to make him perfection on the ice. The tiniest things had made such a difference, so Victor had made it his business to notice them. He’d once thought it was his greatest gift to see all the detail. Now, it was more like his greatest curse.

He just wanted Yuuri to like him. He didn’t have to want to kiss him again, or want to know Victor after the show had ended. If Yuuri didn’t want to be more than partners while the show aired, Victor would respect that.

But he couldn’t stand this cold animosity that was bristling between them.

It had gotten even worse after their camera recording.

Yuuri couldn’t even mention the kiss out loud. It had to be that that was making him uncomfortable.

He was wishing he’d never kissed Victor.

Victor wished he could say that he simply didn’t care…

… but he did.

* * *

By the end of the next day, Yuuri still felt like a newborn colt on his wobbly legs. Every step felt stiff and unsure, wrong. He wasn’t sure how to make it better. He just … wasn’t  _ feeling _ the dance. He wasn’t feeling in love.

They ran through the steps over and over again. Yuuri knew it all backward by now, knew what he  _ should _ be doing…

He just couldn’t relax though. 

They’d slipped back into basics again to cool down. 

The routine had gone okay. Victor had danced it gloriously when he’d demonstrated it to Yuuri, but it hadn’t been finished, still gaps in the choreography that Victor had yet to fill in and an expression on his face that Yuuri couldn’t quite pinpoint. The emotion had flittered over his face, ebbing and flowing like the tide. But when those gaps came, those lost, blank moments… Yuuri didn’t miss the hint of bitterness that crossed the Russian’s face, just a pinch of something sour flittering over his expression.

Yuuri didn’t dare ask about it. 

Perhaps he was tired. Perhaps he was just his face when he was thinking of the choreography. Perhaps he was unhappy with Yuuri’s progress. Perhaps-

_ “All I do is dream of you the whole night through…hm, hm, hm-hm, hm, with the dawn I still go on dreaming of you…” _

Yuuri shook himself out of his thoughts, jolted back to reality by the murmur in his ear - that wasn’t Michael Buble!

Victor was  _ singing. _

He’d never heard Victor sing before - God, the world was missing out! Victor’s voice was deep and silky smooth, his accent cutting sharp a handful of too sweet syllables just enough to add a bit of bite to the melody. He sang slow and soft - more to himself than anyone - but it still floored Yuuri. He was …  _ good _ . Really good.

How many people had heard him sing? Yuuri couldn’t help but wonder. He’d never seen it in any of the interviews - and Yuuri had seen  _ all _ the interviews! - he didn’t imagine that Yakov Feltsman liked to belt a tune in the middle of practice, and… well, he didn’t know who else in Victor’s life might be there to hear it. His dog, maybe? Yeah, probably his dog. Everybody sang around their apartment after all, right?

Yuuri’s heart skipped a beat in his chest, wishing he could melt and sink into Victor and just … never come back. He treasured the moment. Victor holding him in a soft hold, romantic music playing, Victor  _ singing along... _

He tried to remember how not-drooling worked just in time to try something stupid. “ _ Y-you’re every thought, you’re everything-” _

_ “-you’re every song I’ll ever sing.”  _

Victor picked up the line after Yuuri’s flawlessy, lips quirking in the corners when Yuuri was brave enough to glance up and see it.  _ Finally, _ he thought, feeling the tension  _ finally  _ start to crack around them - he’d done something right!

Encouraged, he kept going.

_ “Sum-mer,”  _ Yuuri started.

_ “Win-ter,”  _ Victor finished.

Yuuri slowly started to notice the tension sink soft in Victor’s arms, his shoulders drop the inch that Yuuri hadn’t even realised they’d raised. And when Victor breathed out a chuckle over Yuuri’s shoulder-

Victor whisked him away, arms firm in hold as he twirled them fast across the dance floor to the pitter-patter beat of the music. Yuuri’s heart skipped along with his steps.

“See,” Victor said suddenly as the melody smoothed out again and they fell back into basics, jolting Yuuri out of the trance of his own heartbeat. “That’s much better. You’re following the music a lot better to the beat now.”

Yuuri glowed, cheeks darkening.

He could hear it in Victor’s voice even if he wasn’t brave enough to look up - Victor was better. There was a softness to his hands that hadn’t been there before, a warmth to his voice...

“Oh, I forgot,” he suddenly said, dropping Yuuri’s hands and making a beeline for his bag in the corner of the studio. When he straightened up again, he had a familiar pair of blue frames in hand. “You left these.”

Yuuri gasped before he could help it.

He must have left them somewhere at Victor’s place that night, too panicked to look for them that morning he’d all but fled from the apartment, but-

“Thank you,” he said, cutting off the rambling in his head and picking out the glasses from Victor’s palm, letting his fingertips linger as they grazed Victor’s skin, teasing himself. Even though he spent all day holding Victor’s hand, it wasn’t the same. That was work. Fleeting touches and grazes… that was for him.

* * *

“Is this really the best way I can learn the foxtrot?”

Victor ignored him as he handed the menus back to the waiter, smug, smooth smile on his face. “Of course, Yuuri,” he said, picking up his glass to gently swirl the red wine within. “The foxtrot is all about grace and charm. You need to learn to be comfortable with romance and intimacy.”

Yuuri glanced to the side, out of the corner of his eye – a table away, the camera crew were all poised in their direction.

“Um…”

“Ignore the cameras, Yuuri,” Victor drawled smoothly, eyes like molten crystal as he batted his eyelashes at Yuuri over the table. “What would you do if you were on a real date with me?”

“I-I, um…” Yuuri racked his brain. “I’d ask you what you want to order.”

Across the table, Victor’s smile flickered.

_ Not enough,  _ Yuuri translated in his head with a hot flush over his cheeks, eyes dropping back down to the table. He had to do better. “What’s your favourite food?”

“Russian caviar,” Victor answered without missing a beat. “You?”

“Katsudon.”

“What’s that?”

Yuuri paused for a moment, knowing that someone handsome, and athletic, and slim like Victor probably didn’t really want to hear about a nine hundred calorie rice bowl compared to their fancy Russian caviar, but-

“It’s a rice bowl with fried pork cutlet and egg,” Yuuri said anyway, warmth flooding through his chest. A smile flickered over his lips. “My mother makes the best one back home.”

He hadn’t had it from her first hand in too long, just thinking about it sending him spinning back into a whirlwind of memories from Hasetsu and the simple calm life he’d led back there. He’d watched Victor skate on the TV there. He’d even naively tried to copy him at the local rink. Even without Victor though, the place still stirred something inside him, a longing that went bone deep - it was home.

He didn’t expect Victor to have much time for him and his life. He was just a boy from a small town, doing a basic internship, chasing his dream in America. He was nothing compared to the legend sat across the table.

To his surprise though, when Yuuri looked up, Victor was hanging on his every word.

“It sounds delicious,” Victor smiled, perfect white teeth sparkling in the candlelight. There was a glow in his eye. He meant it.

Warmth sat heavy in Yuuri’s chest by the time the food arrived, the look in Victor’s eyes still haunting him in the most wonderful way. Even if it was only for the show, for the cameras, Yuuri was happy to be here. 

The food was nice. Yuuri didn’t have a clue what it was - the crew had ordered for them, something that would look good for the cameras and reflect well on the studio - but he didn’t care. He was just happy to be with Victor, even if the date was staged. It was still a date. At least, that was what Yuuri told himself.

He was still very much aware that once they got eliminated from the show, he would never see Victor again. This was his one chance.

He wanted to make the most of it.

“Here, try this!”

Yuuri blinked back to reality, expecting Victor to be angling the plate in his direction, to move a glass that might be in the way or shuffle closer so Yuuri could reach. What he didn’t expect was that when he glanced up, he’d find Victor holding out his fork to him across the table, bite of food already waiting. Victor wanted to… feed him?

“Um-”

“Just try,” Victor said, voice smooth as butter, deep as velvet. Yuuri felt heat pool in his belly at the sound, melting under Victor’s tone.

When he still didn’t move though, frozen under the spell of Victor’s voice and hypnotised by the blue of his eyes, he felt a thumb pad tug gently on his lower lip. It teased his mouth open, fork slipping delicately between his lips.

The moment the food touched his tongue, Yuuri remembered himself again. He leaned back from the fork, chewing slowly, savouring the flavours and the hint of spice warming his tongue wondering just how much better it tasted knowing that Victor had eaten from the same fork he’d just had in his mouth too-

From the camera crews table, someone coughed. 

Yuuri flushed scarlet. 

_ Right,  _ he remembered, ducking his head down. It wasn’t a date. It was for the show. It was all for the show...

* * *

They walked home from the date hand in hand, camera crews panning behind them to get a good shot of them walking down the middle of the street with the stars twinkling above them in the night sky. Yuuri was glad to not have to see them for a while, to not be constantly reminded of them out of the corner of his eye.

When he got to the front door of his apartment though and slotted the key in the lock, the cameras were still watching him - and so was Victor.

Victor’s hand covered his around the key.

“How would you like to end the night, Yuuri?” Victor asked sweetly, batting his long eyelashes.

Yuuri froze.

He was sure Victor was used to being invited inside after his dates, offered more fine wine and champagne, kept awake long into the night in his company’s sheets … but that wasn’t Yuuri. He couldn’t do that. And there were cameras! Surely, that wasn’t what the studio wanted to promote. Yuuri was confused - what did Victor want of him?

He felt a tingle on his fingers. Victor was nudging him, fingers brushing ever so slightly over his hand, jolting back to the present. 

He had to do something.

“T-thank you,” Yuuri stumbled, fingers closing around Victor’s before they could tease him further and grasping in a firm handshake. He watched Victor's eyes widen with surprise. “I had a wonderful evening.”

Inside his head, Yuuri was screaming.

A handshake.

_ A handshake?! _

Who offered their date a handshake when they dropped them at the door?! Yuuri Katsuki did apparently, vowing to never do it again on pain of death by humiliation-

Victor pulled Yuuri’s hand up to his face, entwining the fingers delicately. Yuuri sucked in a breath as he felt the warmth of Victor’s exhale skate over the skin down the back of his hand, felt the softness of his lips pressing into his knuckles...

Victor’s eyes simply smouldered, never leaving Yuuri’s for a second. “The pleasure is all mine.”

* * *

In the studio, Victor drank in the adorable expression on Yuuri’s face with incredible interest, hypnotised by the tiny crinkle between his eyebrows and the mysterious look in his eyes as they stared up at the ceiling, chin pinched between his thumb and forefinger and head tilted to the side. His lips pouted, getting more unreadable by the second.

Victor was starting to get nervous. He stood with his arms folded over his chest - to stop himself nervously rubbing his palms over his thighs - his once expectant smile starting to slide with every second that passed…

The new song flowed through the studio room, calm, unhurried, romantic - unless Victor had read it wrong and Yuuri was-

“It’s … nice,” Yuuri finally settled on, picking his words carefully.

He could hear the rhythm - hell, he could  _ feel  _ it! Effortless and relaxed, smooth as melted butter; he itched to move, to test it out, to  _ dance _ swept up in Victor’s arms while the slow country beat sang around them.

He didn’t understand why Victor had kept it a secret until now though. With the first dance, they had practised to the performing song every day, in every rehearsal.

Why had Victor waited until just the day before filming to show him this one though?

“What made you pick this?” Yuuri asked, unable to help himself. 

He loved the song. He loved it - but it wasn’t the song he would have picked for Victor. The Michael Buble was more suited to him, all suave charm and smooth talking. This.. this was surprisingly vulnerable. 

Victor took a step closer, visibly sucking in a sharp breath. Behind his eyes, Yuuri through he saw something crack behind the sparkle.

“I thought it was…” Victor trailed his finger along the underside of Yuuri’s chin, tipping his face up ever so slightly. His touch was so gentle it was hardly there… yet Yuuri couldn’t help but follow it. “Appropriate.”

Yuuri swallowed thickly, catching Victor’s eyes dip to follow the movement.

“Okay,” he rasped, heart beating too fast for him to even remember to be nervous about their position. “Let’s convince the world that we’re in love.”

* * *

Yuuri took deep breaths behind the stage curtain, feeling the usual tight chest of nerves and headache behind his eyes from all the bright lights. The tight collar round his neck wasn’t helping, itching to loosen the top button of his stiff white shirt under his bow tie. He didn’t dare though - the costume team would kill him, not to mention Victor! 

Victor held his hand with soft loose fingers backstage, waiting for their cue to take stage. They were next. They had mere minutes-

“You look beautiful,  _ zolotse _ ,” Victor said, eyes glowing.

Yuuri wasn’t sure about himself… but he was more than sure about Victor. Victor looked absolutely breathtaking in his black tie, the stark black and white showing off his pearlescent skin and the rich tone to his deep cyan eyes. The jacket hugged his torso perfectly, his bangs swept back from his face in the perfect gentleman style. Yuuri knew he didn’t hold a candle to Victor in their matching outfits… but he didn’t care. 

For one more dance,  _ he  _ got to dance with Victor. Nobody else - just him. He got to dance like they were in love.

The feeling swelled traitorously in his chest until he felt like he might burst, ribs aching and unable to look away. He should look away. He was staring. He should take his hand away before his palm got too sweaty. He should-

_ “Dancing the foxtrot, Victor Nikiforov and his partner, Yuuri Katsuki.” _

The stage lights flashed and dimmed at the announcement, and Victor led Yuuri out graciously to the dance floor.

Their hands dropped, letting go.

Yuuri held his breath, waiting for the music to start through the heartbeat pounding in his ears. He didn’t feel as nervous as last time.

Last time, he’d been doing sexy. Sexy wasn’t his thing, he wasn’t good at it. But being infatuated with Victor, dancing with adoration that was never meant to be… yeah, Yuuri knew that all too well...

_ “Lying here with you so close to me _

_ It's hard to fight these feelings when it feels so hard to breathe _ _ ,” _

Yuuri let the music carry him forward, stepping once – twice – across from Victor, legs crossing over into a delicate point before stepping in the other direction. Beside him, a few paces across the floor, Victor mirrored his every move.

Cross, point. Cross, point. Delicate, flowing arms, crossing over one another in the middle of the floor as they mirror the steps. On the last one, Victor’s hand snagged around Yuuri’s waist, pulling him into a delicate spin as Yuuri’s hand fawns over his forehead and his spine arched into an elegant dip. 

_ “Caught up in this moment _

_ Caught up in your smile _ _ …” _

Yuuri’s head arched under Victor’s arm as they straightened up and turned to face one another, hands already poised to meet. 

Fingers touched, Victor’s body framing Yuuri’s beautifully as they came together in hold. Victor’s touch was feather soft, Yuuri barely able to feel it through the fine clothes. It only built the anticipation higher, Yuuri’s heart like the beat of a hummingbird’s wing in his ribcage.

_ “I've never opened up to anyone _

_ So hard to hold back when I'm holding you in my arms, _ _ ” _

_ Foxtrot basics with a heel turn. Slow, quick-quick, slow _ , Yuuri counted silently to himself, letting Victor guide him across the dance. His arms were firm and steady, Yuuri clinging to the Russian’s solid embrace to hold him upright as he stumbled through a heel turn that he fell out of a fraction too quickly. The judges would see though. They saw everything…

_ “We don't need to rush this _

_ Let's just take this slow,” _

Yuuri took a deep breath, forcing his shoulders to relax. His next heel turn went a little smoother. 

Victor span them to a stop in the corner of the floor, toes brushing so barely as their feet came together.

_ “Just a kiss on your lips in the moonlight _

_ Just a touch in the fire burning so bright _

_ I don't want to mess this thing up _

_ I don't want to push too far,” _

Yuuri let himself be carried away in Victor’s long, sweeping steps, flowing back across the dancefloor with movement and steps as fluid as water. Yuuri knew it was good. It just felt so… right.

And Victor’s eyes watching him so tenderly felt even better.

_ “Just a shot in the dark that you just might _

_ Be the one I've been waiting for my whole life," _

Yuuri turned his head as he span, searching for Victor the moment his fingers let go of his.

Victor picked him up again effortlessly, sweeping him into another breathless turn that was smooth as butter, intense, romantic, and as they span to a close, their feet brushing together again, their faces inches apart, staring into each other’s eyes-

_ "So baby I'm alright, with just a kiss goodnight _ _ ,” _

Yuuri turned his head, breaking the eye contact. He stumbled into his next step, half a beat late.

_ “No I don't want to say goodnight," _

He turned on his heel, chasseting elegantly back up the room. Across the floor, Victor mirrored his every move.

_ "I know it's time to leave," _

Yuuri glanced across the floor, catching Victor's eye. There was a dull spark there that he couldn't quite name, a melancholy in his expression that was longing and beautifully heartbreaking at the same time…

Victor ripped his gaze away.

_ "But you'll be in my dreams," _

They met at the head of the dancefloor, palms reaching out to find each other. Yuuri so desperately wanted Victor to look up, to see his expression one more time, that sadness… why was Victor sad? What was Yuuri missing?

_ “Tonight…” _

Victor’s hand was cool against Yuuri’s, smooth, soft, betraying nothing. They turned slowly, stalking around their pressed together palms.

Victor didn’t quite meet Yuuri’s eye.

Why couldn’t he look at him?

_ “Tonight…” _

They were supposed to be in love, turning as one like two lovers chastely coming together again… and all Yuuri’s heart felt was yearning, aching in his chest to get Victor to look up, to help him understand, to  _ connect _ with him. Yuuri could feel his expression twist, eyes round and silently pleading. He wasn’t sure what the judges would think of it. In that moment though, he didn’t care about the judges.

Victor’s gaze glanced up - and a flicker of anxiety flashed in his bright blue eyes that Yuuri couldn’t quite place, a gasp parting the Russian’s lips that he didn’t understand…

Yuuri’s leg felt numb with his next step, forgetting about his body. He didn’t really notice. He was too lost in Victor’s eyes, happy to stay lost, exploring those bottomless cerulean depths staring back at him.

_ “Tonight...” _

But he couldn’t look forever.

Yuuri didn’t get a chance to get a chance to linger at the glitter in Victor’s eyes before the Russian tangled their fingers and twirled Yuuri under his arm in a move so smooth it took Yuuri’s breath away, pulling Yuuri back into hold. Yuuri fell into Victor’s embrace effortlessly, like it was what he was made for.

_ “Just a kiss on your lips in the moonlight _

_ Just a touch in the fire burning so bright,” _

Yuuri danced with everything he had, itching to turn his head to look at Victor as he danced but knowing it would ruin everything if he did. He expressed with his body instead. His strides lengthened to fill every gap Victor’s legs left him, his torso arched with every step to graze their rib cages together, his hands soft and delicate in Victor’s, not pushing, not pulling, just  _ there  _ for when he might need him.

_ “I don't want to mess this thing up _

_ I don't want to push too far," _

Yuuri span - squeezing in an extra turn before Victor stepped into his arms again and carried him off across the dancefloor.

_ "Just a shot in the dark that you just might _

_ Be the one I've been waiting for my whole life," _

Yuuri squeezed out every inch of stretch in his sway step, lingering gracefully, hoping some of his longing shone through his performance. It was dance. It was what Victor had wanted, an emotional performance…

But like this? Yuuri caught another glimpse of Victor’s face, still dodging his gaze. Yuuri hadn’t thought it was supposed to be so… sad.

_ "So baby I'm alright," _

They span to a stop, arms falling out of hold. Victor’s shoulders slumped with it, like he felt his body was made of lead.

Victor's fingers lingered around Yuuri's though, closing gently, lifting his hand.

Wait, was he going to-

_ "With just a kiss goodnight _ _ ,” _

Yuuri held his breath as Victor’s lips grazed over his knuckles, tantalisingly soft and sweet, leaving his skin prickling for more…

A small smile flickered up at him, matched with those melancholy eyes again. Yuuri felt his heartbeat hammering in his ears, hand tingling where Victor had kissed him. He didn’t hear the last few notes of the song fade into silence, didn’t notice the audience rise to their feet - he only had eyes for the man bowed in front of him, still holding his hand.

Victor had never looked so vulnerable.

He held Yuuri’s eye as he straightened up, still holding onto Yuuri’s hand as Yuuri watched the mask slide back into place over his face, lips curving in a plastic smile and eyes brightening superficially. Yuuri could see though - it was all for show. There was no crinkle in the corners of his eyes, smile too perfect … Victor was still sad.

He didn’t say anything as he let Victor lead him off the dance floor towards the presenter, fixing his own fake smile on his face. Cameras were watching, he remembered. The world was watching.

“Wonderful!” she cheered as they approached, flashing them her wide - albeit, just as plastic - smile. “Truly wonder- wasn’t it wonderful, folks?”

A roaring cheer from the crowd answered her.

Yuuri’s cheeks flushed on instinct - but he didn’t feel actually embarrassed. He was too numb to be embarrassed, thoughts of Victor kissing his hand and that sad look in his eyes still ghosting round his thoughts.

He barely snapped himself back to concentration to hear the judges feedback - good movement, decent frame, heel turns, needed more work - but Yuuri could have told them that himself. Overall, it was good. He was pleased. It wasn’t perfect - but it had been graceful and elegant enough to _ ‘capture the spirit of the dance’ _ , as one of the judged put it. 

“You really need to loosen up, darling,” was the last comment before they moved on, head judge regarding him with a fond eye. “You’re good. You’re actually good! Now - relax.”

Only he couldn’t relax.

Not when Victor was being so distant with him.

Victor didn’t look back over his shoulder as he led Yuuri over to the balcony while the scores came in, the crowd cheering them off. Yuuri tried not to think about it. 

He wished he was anywhere else in that moment.

The glare of the camera’s recording red light as it honed in on them was easier to ignore this time, Yuuri focussing on the warmth of Victor’s fingers more than anything. He gave a small smile to the interviewer as they came to a stop on their mark.

It took everything in him not to reach up and loosen his bow tie around his neck, suddenly feeling a lot tighter than it had done when he’d first put it on half an hour ago.

“Shaken, not stirred!” the presenter wiggled her hips, making Yuuri blush as the memories of his last week’s  _ jiggly _ performance came back to him. “You must be pleased with that performance?”

Yuuri trying to put out the fire on his face, tongue darting out to dry his dry lips. He didn’t know what to say, stumbling for words. “Um-”

“So you can do raunchy, you can go graceful - what else can you do?”

Suddenly, the glowing red camera light seemed a lot more intimidating than it had done a minute ago...

“Um, I-” Yuuri was at a loss for the right thing to say. He glanced up at Victor, feeling his heartbeat pick up a notch. Victor helped him last time. Victor didn’t catch his eye. “I’m not sure, I … I just don’t want to go home yet.”

It clearly wasn’t the right answer. The interviewer turned to Victor, her expression frozen in fake enthusiasm.

“What’s he got, Victor? Did you kiss a frog into a prince for us?”

Yuuri choked on air, mouth dropping open before he could stop it. He wasn’t sure what was worse - being reminded of the hand kissing being recorded by cameras, being watched in homes across the country - his parents would see it! - or being compared to a frog...

Victor’s smile was stiff beside him, his fingers tensing a fraction tighter in Yuuri’s grasp. Yuuri wasn’t sure what that meant.

“There’s more to Yuuri that meets the eye,” he said slowly, winking to the camera.

Yuuri thought that was it, the air in his lungs waiting to breathed out in a sigh of relief - but then Victor was tugging on his hand, lifting it up, and-

Yuuri’s breath froze as Victor held his hand up to his mouth, grazing his lips tenderly over his knuckles holding  _ full eye contact with the camera. _ Yuuri felt his stomach curl in horror, knowing his people would see winks and tender kisses and think… what? It wouldn’t be good, that was for sure…

Or maybe it would be  _ too good _ , teasing Yuuri with rumours of a romance with the man he’d held a long secret crush on, while in real life Victor was way out of his league, so far out of his reach-

“The scores are in!”

Yuuri watched the numbers bounce up on the television screen beside the camera; a harsh six, two successive sevens, a final, generous eight from the head judge… twenty eight.

_ Twenty eight wasn’t bad. _

Yuuri felt Victor go tense beside him, felt his hand stiffen in his, waiting for Yuuri’s nerves to kick in at the score, for him to panic and beat himself up about it like last time … Yuuri just swallowed the lump in his throat, eyes trained forward with focus. He’d take twenty eight. 

Because next time he was going to do even better.

* * *

Victor was wracking his brain, blood pounding in his ears and thoughts running away from him. The stillness and silence of the dance floor as all the couples lined up for the results of the public vote didn’t help. There was nothing to distract him, nothing to stop him from thinking, and  _ thinking- _

Yuuri hadn’t responded to his flirting.

Victor had been hoping that the kiss at the end of the dance might have swung it at last, a charming move - albeit bold in front of TV cameras and a world audience - but he’d hoped Yuuri would like it. He’d hoped to see colour dash over his cheeks, those cinnamon eyes burst wide, for for him to smile with absolute abandon like when he’d kissed him in the bar… but it never came.

Yuuri’s expression had stayed a blank canvas, giving nothing away. Maybe it was the cameras, Victor wanted to reason. After all, Yuuri hadn’t taken his hand out of Victor’s after the dance like he could have done. He hadn’t outwardly rejected him.

So here Victor was, just as confused as he’d been at the start of the week only his heart a little fonder and a little more forlorn than before.

The dance floor was still dark save for the single bright spotlights trained above each couple, lined up neatly for the cameras. Victor made sure his face was placid, unreadable. He didn’t want his thoughts betrayed by his expression. It was TV. It was all supposed to be for show.

Maybe Yuuri was grasping something about that concept that Victor was still catching on to, maybe that was why he was being so cool compared to the way he had flung himself at him in the outside world…

Victor didn’t know.

But he desperately wanted to find out.

He was barely paying attention to the names being slowly called out, spotlights going out one by one. He wasn’t worried. They’d done a good performance - and even if they hadn’t, the hand-kissing would have charmed enough people into voting for them.

He regretted the kiss on the balcony though, playing for votes by that point, kissing Yuuri’s knuckles to the camera knowing it was exactly the content they wanted to see. He’d cheapened that one meaningful gesture on the dance floor to nothing in that moment, ruining it.

Maybe that was why the air was stiff between him and Yuuri, Victor resting an awkward hand at Yuuri’s waist while his partner stood ram-rod stiff.

Maybe he was mad.

_ “Victor and Yuuri!” _

The spotlight went dark.

Victor glanced over to Yuuri, feeling his shoulders sag with relief beside him. Sparkling eyes were waiting for him, glittering through the shadow.

Victor wasn’t sure what it meant…

But he swallowed thickly, and pushed the uncertainty aside, lips curving in a small, reassuring smile.  _ It didn’t matter,  _ he told himself, seeing the vulnerability glittering back at him and feeling something inside him strengthen. His arm squeezed around Yuuri, pulling him closer against his side.

Whether Yuuri Katsuki wanted to kiss him or not, Victor was going to make him the best damned dancer in the show’s history.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song for this is [Lady Antebellum's Just a Kiss](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v_yTphvyiPU) which is one of the most romantic songs ever for me and when I dance around the kitchen to my old foxtrot steps, this is what I dance to <3


	3. Jive

Yuuri’s first thought when he walked into the studio on Monday and saw Victor already dancing with his arms around a partner and movements smooth as butter was - 

_ Panic. _

_ Absolute panic. _

He felt the blood drain from his face, body going numb. It had happened, he thought, frozen in the doorway. It had _ finally _happened.

He was being replaced.

He’d known it would happen eventually. After all, he was just a stand-in - nobody wanted to see him! They all wanted to see Victor, audience and studio alike. Nobody cared about the intern nobody that he danced with, especially when Yuuri turned out to be mediocre at best. Victor deserved better. Yuuri had always known that, always known he could never match up to Victor’s talent.

Or maybe the pressure had finally gotten to the studio about them being a same sex couple. Yuuri watched the blonde woman twirl around the floor in Victor’s arms with a heart too aching to feel jealous, just… sad. 

Sad that he hadn’t been enough.

His pass to the dance studios had still worked - maybe the tech guys were still working on shutting him out officially, maybe two security guys were going to come by any second to haul him out and away-

He hadn’t realised he’d dropped his bag until Victor’s partner jumped at the loud thud, the pair leaping apart.

_ Like a dirty secret, _Yuuri thought like a knife to the heart.

Victor’s smile was bright though when it found Yuuri, glanced back gracefully over his shoulder and flicking his sweaty bangs out of his face.

“Oh,” he said simply, face frozen in a grin. “Hi, Yuuri!”

It took everything in Yuuri not to cry.

* * *

“One thing the judges said last week was that we are still not quite connecting as a couple and this time, I think I’m the one who needs a coach.”

_ A dance coach. _

Yuuri hoped the cameras couldn’t pick up the beet red shade of his face as he sat hunched and embarrassed beside Victor for their training video camera monologues, but he somehow doubted it. The way the woman behind the lens kept frowning at him told him as much.

“As a skater, I’m used to moving on my own,” Victor went on obliviously beside him. “Dancing with a partner is something I’m still getting used to.”

Yuuri didn’t remember the comment from the judges about their struggling connection, but he remembered _ feeling _it. That melancholy look in Victor’s eyes that had refused to let Yuuri in, building a wall between them that Yuuri just couldn’t overreach no matter how much passion and longing he’d tried to put into his foxtrot. They had touched - but they hadn’t connected.

The reminder still smarted as Yuuri remembered the embarrassment when Victor had introduced Yulia to him earlier that morning, not as his new partner - but to help _ them _become better partners.

“I want to give Yuuri the best possible chance of getting those high scores.”

Yuuri didn’t blame Victor – he was just looking out for them after all – he just wished Victor had given him a heads up.

The studio wasn’t happy.

They had noticed the lack of commitment from Victor in the foxtrot, his withdrawal, noticed how it had detracted from the magic of the dance and affected the performance – that was supposed to come from Yuuri, not Victor, his ‘_ professional’ _. The studio were addressing it before the public could, at least, Victor trying to keep a brave face on Yulia’s summoning for the cameras.

“This week we’re doing the jive. This dance is high energy, very fast-“

Yuuri glanced over to Victor, suddenly noticing the very stiff edge to his smile and the hard steel edge in his eyes as he spoke. 

It reminded him of the expression he’d used to wear in skating competitions, distant yet laser focussed with determination. Suddenly, Yuuri realised that he hadn’t seen that expression in the studio before - even out on the dance floor, in fact! The crinkle of the eyes was gone, the heart shaped smile nowhere to be found.

It suddenly dawned on Yuuri just how much pressure must be on Victor’s shoulders. He had a reputation to uphold, one that was already almost humiliated by the show - he couldn’t afford to slip up, he couldn’t afford to make mistakes. He’d fought to keep them in the show, to claw back their reputation with the public. If this failed, he’d have to go back to Russia, retired and mocked on American television.

_ He deserved better than that _, Yuuri thought, gritting his jaw tightly and blinking fast to keep his eyes clear.

“-there’s no room for me to be sloppy. If I miss Yuuri’s hand in a spin, he’s going into the front row!”

* * *

“Don’t look down at him! If you look down, your shoulders hunch - look up!”

Yuuri could feel Victor’s tension through his hands, see it in his tense shoulders, in his pinched expression … he bit back whatever he had to say though, plastic smile fixed on his face.

“Look at the parrot,” he whispered, remembering Victor’s early advice to him to keep his head up. _ The parrot on your partner’s shoulder. _

Victor winced. 

“That doesn’t work when your shoulder is lower than mine,” he hissed back, voice clipped. “And I need to be looking _ up. _”

“No talking!”

Yulia’s coaching wasn’t exactly what Yuuri had had in mind. He’d imagined it would involve breaking down the formality between them, getting used to each other’s touch, some trust exercises, encouraging them to fall_ naturally _ into greater intimacy between them…

… instead they were locked in a stiff hold, being yelled at by the small Russian woman who was nowhere near as nice as she’d looked.

Yuuri felt uncomfortable.

Victor felt uncomfortable.

Yuuri could feel it rippling through them, _ connected _in their discomfort perhaps but doing nothing to pull them together - only to wish they were apart. 

“Eye contact!” Yulia snapped from across the studio. “Intimacy comes with eye contact.”

“How am I supposed to hold eye contact if I can’t look down at him?!”

Yuuri’s hand was starting to hurt from Victor gripping it too hard, the Russian’s knuckles white. 

“We’re not even doing a dance with a ballroom hold,” he said quietly, trying to distract Yulia’s attention off Victor for a moment. When her piercing, wild eyes jerked over to him though, he almost wished he’d kept his mouth shut. “Sh-shouldn’t we do some jive steps?”

He couldn’t hold Yulia’s gaze for long, glancing up to Victor and feeling himself flush as Yulia’s eyes seared into his cheek. Victor didn’t look back though.

Instead, his eyes weren’t really looking at anything.

They were glazed and dull, staring down at nothing between them. It sent a bolt through Yuuri, that distant look sending him right back to that foxtrot dance floor again, to the moment that had caused all of the troubles in the first place. Victor was pulling away again.

Yuuri’s hands gripped tight to Victor, matching his firm hold and trying to ignore the way his jaw clenched. 

He couldn’t let him go.

* * *

“Did you find that helpful?”

“No. Did you?”

“No.”

Victor sighed at the ceiling, he and Yuuri laid out flat backed on the studio floor after Yulia had mercifully left, shoes off and weary. It had been a hard day - not physically. Just … draining.

They hadn’t even started on the jive.

Yuuri had thought that the _ coaching _ would have been part of him learning the choreography or that Victor would start their training after Yulia had left… a glance at the dark window told him that it was way too late for that now, even if either of them had been in the mood for a light, happy jive.

“Was that what you had in mind when you got a coach?” Yuuri asked quietly, before the awkward silence could set in. 

It came anyway.

After a long moment, Yuuri heard Victor gulp. 

“I’m sorry, Yuuri,” he said, voice strained. “I didn’t think it would be like this.”

_ Neither did I _, Yuuri answered in his head.

He didn’t say it aloud though. He didn’t dare. Victor’s voice sounded so fragile, so small, that for once, he didn’t want to see Victor’s face, didn’t want to know the expression that went with it. Victor sounded tired - the kind of tired that went deeper than bone deep.

So Yuuri looked up at the ceiling instead, examining the groves and faded paintwork as his hand reached across the wooden floor and his fingers twined around Victor’s.

* * *

Yuuri hadn’t expected Victor to show up at his door with a camera crew on Tuesday morning, but honestly he was starting to get used to it. 

Victor was smiling.

Yuuri did a dramatic slump when he saw Victor bubbling with energy that wasn’t _ entirely _fake - he was literally still in his pyjamas and Victor was wearing jogging bottoms and trainers. Yuuri could guess what he was here for, and Victor only confirmed his suspicions in the little interview they filmed in Yuuri’s cramped kitchen. 

“The jive is all about energy,” Victor said flawlessly to the camera while Yuuri warmed up, just in-frame behind him. “Fitness and stamina will be key - that’s why we’re starting this morning with some exercises to do just that!”

Yuuri’s kitchen was not designed for TV. It was ridiculously small for two grown men and a full camera crew, with little lived in touches like Yuuri’s cereal bowl still left unwashed in the sink that his mother - and indeed, the country! - would now see on TV. It wasn’t how he’d planned on starting the day.

He was almost looking forward to running away from the embarrassment... 

Besides, Victor wasn’t wrong - fitness would matter for the jive more than it had for any of the other dances.

It was the exact reason Yuuri had been dreading it.

He wasn’t exactly unfit, per say… but he was a little conscious about the softness around his middle that the other dancers didn’t exactly have…

That _ Victor _didn’t have.

He didn’t want to be a chubby, jiggling mess on live national television on one of the most watched shows on air.

Victor somehow had a talent for making Yuuri ridiculously aware of it as he glanced back at Yuuri over his shoulder, hands on his hips slithering his shirt up a little to reveal a few fateful centimeters of pale skin. Yuuri tried not to stare, remembering the cameras.

“So Yuuri,” he winked, not helping Yuuri’s problem. “How’s your…” His eyes ran up and down. “Stamina?”

Yuuri forgot everything.

He forgot the cameras.

He forgot how to speak.

He forgot how to even _ think _ as Victor’s words and smouldering look had his mouth running dry and heart rabbiting away in his chest. 

In the end, all he managed to rasp back in a voice deeper than he’d intended, _ somehow _still holding eye contact was-

“I can last.”

* * *

Yuuri had all but sprinted to the studio in an effort to try and get away from the camera crew even faster. He couldn’t believe what he’d just said on camera - the _ innuendo he’d just said on camera! _

Victor had loved it.

He’d absolutely beamed at Yuuri’s words, the prettiest hint of a blush touching his cheeks that Yuuri had ever seen.

And because he was a retired Olypian athlete, there was no way to outrun him.

“Was that true?” Victor asked, as casually as if they were just taking a leisurely morning stroll. “About your …” his eyebrows wriggled, lips twisting into a smirk. “Stamina?”

Yuuri wished he could die. “Oh God…”

He wished the studio wasn’t so far away. The further away it was, the longer the painful conversation might go on for...

Beside him, Victor chuckled softly. “You’re lucky Christophe isn’t here. He’d love material like that to work with.”

“Giacometti?”

“Yeah,” Victor glanced over, catching Yuuri’s eye for a flicker of a second before he looked away. “You know him?”

“No, I-” Yuuri sucked in a sharp breath, feeling a stitch start to pinch under his ribs. “I’ve seen him on TV. S-skating.”

“Oh,” Victor’s eyes glowed across the pavement. “Now I remember, you said you were a fan...” A coy look darted over his face. “Who was your favourite?”

Yuuri just rolled his eyes. 

“Fine, we could always just continue this conversation in front of the cameras if you’d prefer-”

“You!” 

It came out more forcefully than Yuuri had intended it to - but that stitch was really starting to dig into his side and the threat of the looming publicity made him snap. He knew Victor was teasing him. A part of him was delighted. Another part of him wished it hadn’t been in the middle of a testing run first thing in the morning…

He chanced a glare across the pavement at Victor, lips pressed together in what he knew was a petty pout. “Is that what you wanted to hear?”

Victor’s expression was unreadable.

For a moment, Yuuri wondered if he’d crossed the line. He’d thought that Victor could take as much as he gave, but maybe he was wrong. He didn’t want to upset his partner - his _ idol! _ He hadn’t meant-

“Is it true?” 

Victor sounded wary. _ Unsure _.

Yuuri sucked in a sharp breath that had nothing to do with his stitch as his heart skipped a beat. The vulnerable glitter in Victor’s eyes made his stomach do somersaults.

He nodded, swallowing thickly.

A smile smoothed over Victor’s mouth, face brightening again like nothing had happened. “Then yes.”

* * *

Luckily Yuuri was able to blame his red face on the run by the time they made it to the studio. The camera crew - who had had the luxury of taking a taxi - were waiting for them.

Yuuri was breathing hard as they came to a stop, doubling over and bracing his hands on his knees. He wasn’t sure if Victor took longer strides with his longer legs or if Yuuri had been running faster to escape the awkward conversation, but that had felt harder than usual.

At least it was over ….

… or so he’d thought.

“We’re going to jump for 90 seconds,” Victor said smoothly as he handed Yuuri the jump rope once they were inside the studio, camera crew still watching from the background. 

_ The same length of time as the dance routine _, Yuuri pieced together. That made sense... 

“It should help your footwork,” Victor went on, separating his own rope and swinging it a few times to get used to the weight. “Keep you light and quick on your feet.”

Yuuri had heard of that before. “Like boxers.” 

A grin flashed his way. “Yes, like boxers.”

It wasn’t just the jump rope. Half of their morning was spent doing a number of different exercises, from sprint starts, to jumping through rope ladders on the floor, and dodging around cones - all to help Yuuri’s footwork, Victor argued. He was probably right, Yuuri knew. Heavy footwork would be the first thing the judges would be looking to spot on Saturday night, and Yuuri desperately didn’t want to give them the satisfaction.

* * *

“What are we dancing to?” Yuuri finally asked after lunch, after the camera crew had at last left. He was still slightly out of breath from the exercises, something Victor noticed with a slight smirk.

It was going to be a tough week for them, he knew. It was going to be the most physically challenging, already noting how tired Yuuri looked after their morning of exercise. He’d started showing Yuuri the basic jive steps, the pair of them doing a handful of linking chassees for the camera before they called a break, but still… they had a long way to go.

Victor hooked his fist under his chin, finger pressed over his lips as he thought. Honestly, he hadn’t decided yet.

Between the _ connection _ issue and the drama with Yulia the day before Victor hadn’t had much of a chance to think about music yet. He wasn’t even a hundred percent certain of the choreography! They’d practiced to a classic Waterloo earlier, but they would need to decide their final track soon…

Then, an idea hit him. “Give me your phone.”

“What?”

Victor didn’t give Yuuri time to stop him as he all but plucked the phone out of Yuuri’s hand before it could lock itself, turning his back to Yuuri’s grabbing hands and scrolling through the apps. He found Spotify quickly.

“You’re going to pick the music this week,” Victor said, scrolling through Yuuri’s playlist while he kept twisting and turning out of Yuuri’s reach at the same time. “Last week, the judges said you should be more confident. Perhaps dancing to music you actually like will help.”

“I-” Yuuri huffed after another missed dive for the phone. “I liked the other - _ Victor _!”

Victor was too tall. His limbs were too long, too gangly - just about able to smoothly weave out of Yuuri’s grasp. Victor would be lying if he wasn’t enjoying himself. Especially when Yuuri stood with his hands on his hips, pouting adorably.

“Give it back.”

Victor just grinned. 

He stopped dodging, fingers loosening around the phone and not resisting when Yuuri snatched it back. He’d gotten what he’d wanted. 

* * *

Alarm bells didn’t ring when Yuuri got the text to go to the TV station one morning instead of the dance studio. After their stiff coaching with Yulia and how much the studio had riding on him and Victor in the show, he’d figured it would be about that. A lecture, a slap on the wrist, a warning - hell, even if they were cancelled off the show! Yuuri had run every situation in his head over a million times and he was too exhausted to be anxious about any of them anymore.

He stepped out of the elevator for his floor still half asleep and eyes glazed behind his glasses, legs walking on autopilot. 

It was only when he walked into a clothing rack that he woke up.

_ That wasn’t usually there... _

His hands jerked out to steady the rack before it could crash over, fingers grazing over the stiff white shirts, and soft-to-the-touch blazers, and _ was that a velvet tie- _

Across the floor, Yuuri caught Victor’s eyes jerk up. “Yuuri!” 

Yuuri just stood there staring in a daze as Victor thanked the makeup artist that had been dusting powder over his face and practically ran across the office to join him by the clothing rack. He was wearing a sleek, blue suit and a smart tie.

A lump built in Yuuri’s throat – if Victor was dressed that fancy, then something must _ seriously _be wrong!

Yuuri’s first thought was that there was some kind of a lawsuit that had been filed and he was just wondering if it was legal to be sued for being bad at dancing when-

Victor’s smile slipped on his face, eyes raking up and down Yuuri’s figure.

“What are you _ wearing _?” he asked, with a subtle curl of the lip. His tone clearly disapproved – all but disgusted! “I knew we’d have to fix your outfit in some way, but I didn’t think it would literally be all of it…”

Honestly, Yuuri hadn’t really given much consideration to his clothes for that day. He’d guessed that whatever had called them there would be something for the show and would end up with them practising in the dance studio afterwards anyway - where his leggings and shirt would fit in! And if they were being sacked, then it wouldn’t matter anyway.

He hadn’t anticipated Victor being prepared for something else that Yuuri clearly wasn’t…

Yuuri’s face flushed red, fighting the urge to wrap his arms around himself. He knew it would only draw more attention.

“W-what are we doing here?!” 

He glared up at Victor through his eyelashes, forcing himself to meet his gaze even though looking Victor in the eye made him _ burn with shame- _

“It’s your TV studio,” Victor said innocently, like that explained everything. His eyes blinked a little too blankly. “I thought you’d be more confident in a place you’re familiar with rather than another fake date, or bar, or-”

“Okay, okay, I get it!”

Now he remembered – their weekly _ outing _ for the cameras. It was Wednesday. _ Fake Day _.

He guessed that was what the fancy clothes were for, gaze drifting back to the rack he’d staggered into. Yuuri just sighed, grabbing stuff a little rougher than he needed to. “Why am I always the last person to find out these things…”

* * *

“I’m here to see what Yuuri does on a day to day basis when I’m not stealing him away to dance - not that that is going to stop me!”

Victor had said it so smoothly to the camera, taking everything in Yuuri not to scoff and pull a face beside him. Victor’s elbow dug subtly into his side though, so maybe he hadn’t been as successful as he’d thought…

“Cut!” the director near shouted from behind the cameras. “That’s where we’ll put the dancing clip! Cue!”

Yuuri sighed as he stood, loosening his tie with his free hand. Victor was already holding his other. 

“Is this really necessary?” he sighed.

They had only been there for a few hours – most of it setting up the sound and lighting, and filling the office with people that looked-the-part to fill in the background behind them. Victor and Yuuri had said their cheesy lines to the camera endlessly, with different tones, different winks, different subtleties… 

Usually, that was the worst of it.

Today, it got worse.

Victor just smiled stiffly. “Just bear with it, okay?”

Yuuri felt his dignity slipping down the drain as he and Victor awkwardly danced some jive chasses between the office desks in their suits and ties, _ feeling _the office workers watching them out of the corners of their eyes. They linked around the desks, jumped in the breakroom, practicing their flicks in the kitchen - it was ridiculous! There was too little space, Yuuri all too aware of the walls just inches away from him as he danced, and getting too close on more than one occasion, feeling bruised already start to bloom on his elbows. 

After a while, people stopped watching slyly, turning into full on stares - naturally! They were two idiots dancing in the office and being followed by a camera crew! 

Yuuri had never felt so humiliated in his life.

By the time one of the producers spotted a closet door, Yuuri was already on the verge of snapping.

“What’s this?” the producer asked, poking his head in the closet and looking from side to side. “A supply closet?”

Yuuri cringed. “Um, kind of-”

“Great! Let’s use this!”

“Er-”

Yuuri didn’t get to say more than that before he and Victor were herded off towards the cupboard with an encouraging shove. Victor took it much more in his stride than Yuuri did – linking their arms together and throwing a sexy wink over his shoulder at the ever-watching camera. Yuuri barely didn’t trip as he was shoved inside.

The door shut behind them, sealing them in darkness. On the other side, Yuuri heard a distant ‘Cut!’ - but the door didn’t open again like he thought it would.

Nothing happened.

Suddenly, Yuuri realised he could hear Victor breathing. It was faster than normal, gasps slightly haggard. 

_ It was warm in the cupboard too, _ he thought, fighting the urge to reach up and loosen his tie. There wasn’t much space to do that without touching Victor. And it was a miracle they were shoved in together without being crammed chest to chest as it was…

Across the darkness, Victor’s eyes seemed to glow. They didn’t look as confident as they usually did.

“Do you know what they think we’re doing in here?” he all but purred, voice smooth as velvet.

Yuuri could feel his exhale wash over his cheek.

He wondered if Victor could see the way his throat moved as he gulped… “I can guess.”

He’d picked up on the angle that the producers were going for after all - the typical TV office, full of sharp dressers, office affairs, and not much actual work

“Y-you know I don’t do any of this here?” Yuuri asked, bitterly. “I just make coffee, that’s it.”

They’d filmed a brief segment of Yuuri’s ‘boss’ describing how much of an asset Yuuri was and of Yuuri explaining to Victor what his department was in charge of working on - none of which he’d ever been allowed anywhere near in practice! He’d never been promoted from the coffee machine technically...

“I know,” Victor mused softly, eyelashes fluttering. “Did you forget how we met?”

The wink he threw across the cupboard lacked his usual smoothness, a pinch of tension in his pursed lips ruining the effect. Yuuri didn't say anything though. His heart still did somersaults after all, the way it always would for Victor Nikiforov.

“Everyone already knows everything about me though,” Victor went on, voice a touch softer. “We want to know about you.”

“I’m nobody.”

“That’s not true.”

“It is...”

Victor’s mouth was a heartbeat away from his, Victor’s eyelashes fanned out over his cheeks with every blink. Somehow, Yuuri thought it looked familiar, like he’d seen Victor from this angle before.

“We’re really going to pretend you don’t know why I chose that song for last week’s dance?”

Was it Yuuri or did Victor sound hurt?

_ Last week _ \- the foxtrot, ‘ _ Just a Kiss’. _.. Victor had called it the perfect song after their drinking celebration from that first week, Yuuri never figuring out why. It was just a song, full of tentative romance, unspoken feelings, fragile intimacy…

Yuuri gasped.

He realised how he could have remembered Victor being this close, from this angle, lips tingling mockingly. Surely, he hadn’t… had he?

“Let me remind you.”

Yuuri had barely blinked before Victor was suddenly even closer and the warmth ghosting over Yuuri’s mouth wasn’t just air - but Victor’s lips brushing sweetly over his.

* * *

Victor had been wrong. He’d thought he’d been okay with him and Yuuri being on professional terms, on accepting Yuuri’s unspoken boundaries in regards to their first kiss.... 

He’d been wrong.

He just hadn’t been able to help himself. Yuuri had been so close, so within arms reach that Victor just had barely thought of it before he’d been leaning forward to kiss him. It had only been quick. One short, hasty kiss, lips brushing so faintly over each other that it could so easily had been a dream.

Only it hadn’t, and Victor never wanted to forget it.

He supposed it was a small mercy when the cupboard door had wrenched open and light had spilled over him and Yuuri a second after the kiss, ruining anything left of the moment without being able to capture it on film.

The implication was one thing - if Yuuri and Victor had _ really _been caught fooling around, he was sure there would have been a scandal.

There always was on these kind of shows...

“We’re going to do an office theme.” Victor declared when they’d finished warming up. “Boss seduces intern kind-of-thing. I’ve spoken to the costume department about it and they might even have some props we can use.”

“You’re gonna be the boss?”

“I’d figured.”

Yuuri made a subtle face.

Victor’s smile slipped. “What?”

“Nothing,” he shrugged. “Just…” he sighed, shoulders slumping as he glanced up again. “Won’t people be expecting that?”

It took Victor a second to process.

“Okay,” he said carefully, mentally running through the alternative option. “You do it.”

He’d expected a fight. He’d expected for Yuuri to flush and decline, for it to be shot down as a terrible idea because it was a lot of pressure to put on Yuuri to lead. They’d been practicing with Victor leading so far - Yuuri would have to get a lot more confident with the choreography fast if they were going to switch things up…

Instead though, Yuuri just pressed his lips together, hands curled into determined fists at his side… and nodded.

It took everything in Victor not to stumble back in surprise.

He blinked - but Yuuri’s steely gaze was still staring at him, unwavering. He could make that work, Victor thought. He knew Yuuri had it in him. He just had to bring it out somehow.

He was excited as he saddled up to Yuuri, hooking his fingers under Yuuri’s chin and brushing the pad of his thumb across Yuuri’s lower lip. “Seduce me, Yuuri.”

* * *

When Victor picked Yuuri up for their morning run on Friday, he was half shocked to see Yuuri just finishing tying his laces with one hand while he opened the door, ready to go.

Yuuri was never ready.

Victor had quickly learned that Yuuri was not a morning person and even when he was up, it generally took a few hours for him to _ really _wake up. 

Their second day of training, Yuuri had still been in pyjamas when Victor had knocked, convinced that the stunt had been just for the cameras for a one off - he’d been wrong. Victor had been deadly serious.

Over the week, he’d found Yuuri at various stages of wakefulness. They usually had some water at his apartment before they headed out while Yuuri finished getting ready. Sometimes Yuuri was still slurping a yoghurt down when Victor came. Others, they were delayed because Yuuri had forgotten to put some laundry on because his room mate would apparently kill him if he didn’t. There was always a delay. There was always a rush. There was always _ something _with Yuuri, leading Victor’s mornings to at least be amusing if nothing else…

This morning though, Victor just stared.

“Wow, you, er…” he cleared his throat, trying not to stare as Yuuri gave up trying to balance on one leg to sort his lace and bending over to fix it instead. “You’re on time.”

His bag was at the door, he was dressed, his hair wasn’t fresh from rolling out of bed and Yuuri looked … alert. Determined. Focused.

Victor liked that look.

Yuuri’s eyes looked sharp as they glanced over to Victor, straightening up with his newly tied laces.

He beat Victor to the studio that morning. 

* * *

Yuuri knew he was being weird. He saw it in the surprised looks Victor gave him, heard it in the silences that stretched between them, felt it in the tension in his shoulders and tightness around his rib cage.

He was nervous.

He was starting to think he had bitten off more than he could chew when he’d volunteered to take the lead in their dance.

Objectively, he knew he’d been right. Nobody would have been shocked to see Victor playing the saucy lead _ again _ in their routines, Victor able to fall into the character so easily and sweep the world off its feet. Nobody had ever seen Victor as the one swept away before though - Yuuri knew it was their only option.

But he’d faltered the moment they’d put it in practise. The steps hadn’t changed much - just the attitude of them. Instead of the partnership they’d started out with, Yuuri needed to be more in the lead, more in command, in control-

He tripped in the middle of a travelling kick spin, his _ spot _on the wall forgotten in a heartbeat as he staggered out of step with a hiss.

Victor shut the music off.

Yuuri didn’t miss his sigh.

“What’s wrong?”

The words were cut and curt, Yuuri hearing the lack of patience in Victor’s voice. He must have noticed something was up.

Yuuri couldn’t say he blamed him. As well as being distracted from his own moves, he’d let Victor down in his too. There were sloppy catches of hand, clumsy grips, their synchronised kicks totally out of turn … Yuuri was embarrassed. How was he supposed to lead Victor through this dance on national television? He was going to make them a laughing stock…

“You’re stiff,” Victor went on, unrelenting. “You need to turn out from your hip when you kick or else-”

“I know!”

Yuuri had seen the flash of Victor’s hands reaching for his hips out of the corner of his eye, leaping just out of reach at the last second before Victor’s fingertips could so much as brush his leggings. His skin prickled unexplainably. He didn’t want help. He knew what he was doing wrong, and there was no amount of adjusting with Victor’s hands that was going to help.

“I know,” he said again - softer this time - running a hand over his face. “I just … I’m nervous. I don’t-” he sucked in a deep breath, pressing his eyes shut. “I don’t know if I can do this.”

He’d never expected this kind of pressure.

He’d imagined going into this competition that all he had to worry about was not falling on his ass and making a fool of himself, that he would be moved like a doll on Victor’s arm to make him look good, that any nerves he might feel would be shared between them both…

It was nothing like that. Yuuri was taking the lead. If it went wrong, it would be his fault. And it wasn’t just him that it would impact if he did - it would be Victor too.

He wasn’t ready for this.

“You can do the steps,” Victor waved off though, hands on his hips. “Sure there is some tweaking we need to do, but it will be-”

“I don’t mean the steps.” 

Yuuri straightened up, dragging his hands down away from his face. It took everything in him to stiffen his lip, hearing his voice start to crack. “I’m not like you...”

Most people slumped when Yuuri talked like that. Their eyes grew round with sympathy and the reassurances ready to bubble from their lips in a second… 

Victor was not like most people. 

“You don’t trust me?”

Victor’s eyes narrowed, his mouth smoothing out into a thin, harsh line and arms folding firmly across his chest.

Yuuri’s heart skipped a beat in horror. “No, I-”

It would never be Victor’s fault. Victor was doing his best, being the best coach Yuuri could have asked for in this process. He was ambitious and attentive, broad minded yet focussed. He was doing everything he could from his part to make their dance perfect... 

Yuuri sucked in a deep breath, curling his hands into tight fists and trying to focus on the dig of his nails into his palms. “I don’t trust myself.”

He wasn’t like Victor. He wasn’t tall and attractive with people falling over themselves for him. He hadn’t broken records and made history. Yuuri hadn’t achieved anything. He wasn’t confident like international heartthrob and world class athlete Victor Nikiforov was and he’d be a fool to try and pretend that he was. He couldn’t do it. He just couldn’t.

For a long moment, Victor didn’t say anything.

His expression was unreadable, eyes steely and fingers draped over his lips barely masking his scowl.

It terrified Yuuri. 

“Okay,” Victor finally said, that one word short and sharp.

Yuuri clenched his fists tighter, bracing himself for more to follow. There had to be more. If not a pep talk, then a scolding. They didn’t have much time and Yuuri knew it - Victor must know it too. They didn’t have time for meltdowns or worries. They really didn’t... 

Instead though, Victor just turned on his heel and walked away.

Yuuri’s stomach flipped. “W-what are you doing?”

He felt almost faint with horror and misery when Victor picked up his bag across the studio, eyes wet with unshed tears. _ Please don’t leave _ , he silently begged. If Victor left, he wasn’t sure what he would do. He’d never meant for it to go that far that Victor might actually _ leave _!

He was rooted to the spot though as Victor unzipped his bag, unable to move. What was he going to do? Pull on his trainers and actually leave?

Yuuri couldn’t bear it if he did.

He didn’t dare move as Victor pulled out - not his trainers, thank god - but his spare pair of tights.

That made Yuuri frown. 

“We’re going to try it again,” Victor said, dropping the bag and smoothing out the tights in his hands. “But this time, I’ll be blindfolded.”

Yuuri choked on air. “W-what?”

He must have misheard, he told himself. There was no way he’d heard that right, that Victor was planning to dance blindfolded… could he?

Then again, this was the man who had sheared his long hair off at the end of a fashion runway for the _ drama _ of it....

A knowing smile spread over Victor’s face that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“I trust you, Yuuri,” he said, surprisingly softly. “You don’t need to be sexy in this dance, just in control. Like this, I’m completely at your mercy.”

Yuuri forgot how to breathe. He swore all the blood in his body fled south at the little flicker of a smirk that dashed across Victor’s lips, at the way his voice turned a little breathy at the end… was this what Victor wanted him to feel? _ That _ kind of control?

He still wasn’t confident.

But as Victor stretched the black tights over his eyes and tied a firm knot at the back of his head, Yuuri guessed he didn’t have much choice.

Victor reached out towards him, fingers outstretched, silently asking. 

“I’m in your hands, Yuuri.”

* * *

When Yuuri reached out and took Victor’s hand, he swore something sparked. He wasn’t sure if it was his nerves, the pressure of the blindfold or the freedom it gave him that Victor couldn’t see him… but suddenly, it was like he could _ feel _ more.

He’d held Victor’s hand plenty of times over the last three weeks. 

This felt different.

Now, he noticed the softness to the skin. The way Victor’s fingers felt cooler than his own. The delicate nudges as those fingers tentatively flexed in his hand, searching him out. He felt Victor’s vulnerability. And something swelled in his chest knowing that Victor was under _ his _ guidance, that it was _ his _responsibility to keep him safe.

His tongue darted out to wet his dry lips as he slipped the sound system remote out of the waistband of Victor’s leggings. “Ready?”

Yuuri let his hand slide further into Victor’s palm, fingers grazing over his pulse point on the inside of his wrist. He wondered if Victor could tell, if he noticed…

Victor’s heart was racing. 

“Ready,” he nodded regardless.

Yuuri enjoyed one last second of staring - drinking in the pale blush on Victor’s cheeks, the way his lips hovered slightly apart in anticipation, admiring just how _ beautiful _ he was…

He clicked the button and the music started.

He rolled his shoulders, bounced a few times on the balls of his feet through the song’s short intro… and then he was grabbing Victor’s hand and dancing.

Victor fell right into his grip.

He was so pliable, moving to Yuuri’s every shift and tug on a heartbeat. Yuuri felt his heart skip a beat everytime he did, feeling the power coursing delicately through his fingers. 

When his grip loosened, so did Victor. He felt him drifting away in his steps, distance gathering between them and fingers slacking - Yuuri firmed his grip instantly, drawing him back to his side. He controlled when Victor danced, he realised, having to literally pull Victor into a spin before it was too late when he realised that Victor wouldn’t step into the unknown by himself, unable to see the gap Yuuri had left for him.

Yuuri didn’t keep his head up like he should. Instead, he was too busy reading Victor’s body language, watching the muscles tense in his legs to see where he would step next to catch him, arms up and ready.

He had to be ready.

Whereas in other practices, he’d had sloppy catches of Victor’s hand going back into hold, there was no room for that now.

He reached out, grasped Victor’s hand in a soft yet firm grip and guided the man back to him, arms finding their protective hold around him. He became sensitive to every point of contact, right down to the angle of his fingertips as they span, swirling Victor in the right direction. 

He felt in control.

Not having Victor watch him probably helped. Then again, the pressure of making sure Victor didn’t spin himself into a wall was also a great motivator.

Victor didn’t curb his moves, Yuuri realised. He didn’t take small steps of a blinded man or careful spins - he threw himself into everything, turning, twisting madly - trusting Yuuri to catch him and pull him back like he should.

The thought alone gave Yuuri a burn in his chest. Victor wasn’t just saying that he trusted Yuuri - he was _ proving _it.

Yuuri wasn’t sure anybody had put so much faith in him before…

Even the final move - Victor spinning into Yuuri’s arms and dropping - Victor didn’t hold back.

He let himself fall.

Yuuri caught him firm, arm wrapped around his waist and up Victor’s side, the other trailing Victor’s arm looped around his shoulders. It wasn’t sexy - but it was sure. Victor wasn’t falling anywhere.

The song ended.

They were both breathing hard, Yuuri feeling the way Victor’s ribcage pressed against his own and his arms start to ache with the weight of Victor in his arms. He made no move to right them though. He liked it.

The smile that flickered over Victor’s lips - the brightest, most honest smile Yuuri had seen from him all week - seemed to confirm Victor wasn’t in a rush either.

“Beautiful,” he just gasped, still cradled against Yuuri’s chest.

Yuuri wished he could see his eyes. With a smile like that, Victor’s eyes must be absolutely dazzling...

He laughed breathlessly. “You didn’t see it...”

It hadn’t been perfect. Yuuri would need to keep his head up, his steps could have been lighter if he hadn’t been concentrating so hard on Victor, their synchronized kicks hadn’t always been the same height-

Victor squeezed Yuuri’s shoulder. 

“I felt it.”

* * *

Victor blew a low whistle when he saw Yuuri in the dressing room backstage on Saturday night, raking his eyes over him appreciatively as he approached. “You look good.”

Yuuri just picked at his hair, which the stylist had managed to tousle and wrestle into a side parting.

His mouth twisted in a grimace. “I look like I’m in a boyband.”

“A cute one.”

Yuuri’s blush glowed through his makeup.

He had to admit though, he didn’t look _ bad _. The lack of glasses and whatever witchcraft the makeup artist had done to him made his cheekbones and jawline look razor-sharp, his skin dewy, and eyelashes thick and dark. The white shirt he wore was crisp with the top button loose, a cool gap between his throat and the small knot of his blue tie.

Of course, Victor looked better.

The plum purple of his tie looked radiant with the silver of his hair, cheeks dashed with innocent blush and - was that _ freckles _dotted over the bridge of his nose?!

He looked adorable.

Yuuri wanted to whine at the want twanging on his heartstrings - especially when Victor reached for the red lipstick on the dressing table, the perfect dash of sex tainted innocence as he smeared it smoothly over his lips.

“One last touch...”

Yuuri had barely registered the click of Victor setting the lipstick down on the counter again before the Russian was leaning over him in his chair, and smearing it over his mouth in a messy kiss.

* * *

Yuuri’s heart was beating fast as he and Victor stood on the dimmed dance floor, and for once, he was pretty sure it was nothing to do with nerves. 

He could still taste Victor on his lips, could still feel the lipstick clumsily smeared over his mouth from Victor’s kiss. His blood felt hot. His skin tingled with anticipation. He could feel Victor’s eyes lingering on him through the darkness, wicked with amusement. 

Victor had thrown down the gauntlet in a tease - and Yuuri wanted so badly to pick it up.

_ “Dancing the jive, Victor Nikiforov and his partner, Yuuri Katsuki.” _

He was going to enjoy this.

The lights flashed up and the first notes of the music thrummed.

_ “Ah, yes,” _

Yuuri was running on a high from Victor’s kiss as he straightened up from leaning over the prop desk at the top of the dance floor, turning round to where he knew the camera was. He loosened the tie around his neck with a smooth tug of his finger, trying to look as cool as all the pop idols he’d seen on TV.

Victor had told him it had been cool - with soft eyelids, and gently parted lips, chin tilted in just a hint of sexy arrogance … Yuuri tried to embody all of it as he sauntered to Victor’s office chair, the Russian blinking up at him innocently.

His lips were still a little red from where he’d hastily rubbed the lipstick off, thin rimmed glasses perched on the bridge of his nose.

Yuuri thought he looked _ fantastic _.

And he wanted to wipe that sweet, smug look off of Victor’s face.

He didn’t take Victor’s hand like they’d rehearsed - instead, he grabbed Victor’s tie, drawing him up to his feet and watching the surprise pop behind Victor’s eyes.

And a flash of something darker…

_ Game on. _

_ “Well looky here looky here, ah what do we have? _

_ Another pretty thing ready for me to grab,” _

Yuuri grabbed Victor’s hand into a jive basic, his grip firm and sure. He was pretty sure he’d be able to pluck Victor’s hand in the dark by now after their afternoon of blindfolded training. He didn’t miss - not when Victor was on the line. So when Victor threw himself away into a fast spin, Yuuri didn’t.

His hand darted out and grabbed Victor’s perfectly out of rotation, pulling him back to the beat of the music.

_ “But little does she know that I'm a wolf in sheep's clothing,” _

Another basic, another spin, another Victor-stealing grab that made Victor’s eyes sparkle mischievously...

_ 'Cause at the end of the night it is her I'll be holding _ _ ,” _

When Yuuri pulled Victor back in this time, he swore the Russian’s hips bumped against his firmer than they had in rehearsals, Victor’s back to Yuuri’s front and Yuuri’s hands settling on Victor’s hip bones. The hip roll Victor did back into Yuuri’s pelvis was delicious.

He’d been hoping to get a few parental complaints about that one...

The thought made Yuuri grin as they parted.

_ “I love you so _ _ ,” _

_ Kick, flick. _

_ “That's what you'll say _ _ ,” _

_ Kick, flick. _

_ “You'll tell me baby, baby please don't go away _ _ , _

_ But when I play,” _

Yuuri kicked, feeling light enough to be dancing on air as Victor mirrored him at his side. _ Kick, step, loose leg sweeping forward smooth as butter until- _

_ “I never stay _ _ ,” _

_ Flick, flick, flick. _

_ “ _ _ To every girl that I meet here,” _

Yuuri half turned, bringing him face to face with Victor so close that his next huff of breath clouded the lower lens of Victor’s glasses. It wasn’t as sexy as he’d hoped... 

_ “This is what I'll say _ _ ,” _

He ran a cool hand through his hair to make up for it.

_ “Run run runaway, runaway baby _

_ Before I put my spell on you _ _ ,” _

Yuuri kept time in his head as he tried to keep up with the fast beat. _ Kick, spin, kick, spin, kick spi _n - travelling all the time in perfect lines down the dance floor with Victor beside him. He caught Victor’s hand at the end of the last spin, pulling him and swinging him low in a deep dip.

Yuuri didn’t fail to notice the faint blush on Victor’s cheeks as he righted him again and took his hand.

_ “You better get get getaway, getaway darling _

_ 'Cause everything you heard is true _ _ ,” _

Hand in hand, Yuuri bounced on his toes through his kick-ball-changes opposite Victor, heart racing to the beat of the music. Back and forth, back and forth - until Yuuri firmed his grip on Victor’s hand and pulled the Russian to chassee back under his arm to be face-fronting for the cameras.

_ “You poor little heart will end up alone _

_ 'Cause lord knows I'm a rolling stone _ _ ,” _

_ Kick front, side, kick-ball-change. _Yuuri could hear Victor’s voice in his head, the way he would shout out the steps just a heartbeat before they actually danced them. That voice was as much as his guide as much as the muscle memory from long days of practise. 

His fingers were light around Victor’s beside him, guiding him along beside him when Yuuri’s kicks moved them ever so slightly off their centre. It didn’t matter, he told himself, forcing himself to think of the next steps and push up on the balls of his feet just a little more.

He swung Victor in front of him and caught both his hands in a tight grip, pushing back into the Russian the way he could feel Victor leaning into him too.

_ “So you better run run runaway, runaway baby _ _ ,” _

Yuuri could see Victor grinning through their toe-heel swivel, pushing into their hold just a little more to twist Victor even more in his arms. He could do it. He wanted to show Victor he could do it.

He wanted to take Victor’s breath away.

And as he looped Victor under his arm and pulled him flush against his chest, that was exactly what he did. 

“_ See I ain't tryna hurt you baby _ _ ,” _

Yuuri reached up, tracing a delicate finger along the line of Victor’s jaw. He was painfully aware of how close Victor’s mouth was to his as the Russian turned his head with the caress.

_ “No, no, no, I just want to work you baby,” _

His free hand pushed Victor to twist, spinning under his arm while his fingertip stayed glued to the point of Victor’s chin.

As Yuuri hopped back, Victor helplessly followed him.

_ Victor should go into acting, _ Yuuri couldn’t help but think, drinking in those half lidded eyes, the breathlessly parted lips, flush staining his cheeks red. Victor looked thoroughly ruined on the end of Yuuri’s fingertip. If he could pull out such a performance for just a dance show...

_ “See I ain't tryna hurt you baby _ _ ,” _

Yuuri span fast, caging Victor in as the Russian all but fell into the office chair waiting behind him. It had been a little more graceful in rehearsal, Yuuri couldn’t help but think, Victor really selling the weak kneed employee for the cameras now…

_ “No, no, no, I just want to work you baby,” _

Yuuri braced his hands on the arm of the office chair, pushing it - and Victor - slowly backwards to the beat. He gave Victor his best piercing gaze for the cameras. 

If he didn’t know Victor better, he could have sworn he heard the Russian whine beneath him…

He didn’t give himself a chance to linger on it though, firming his feet on the ground and his hands around Victor’s waist, lifting him clear out of the chair. 

_ “If you are scared, you better run,” _

Victor’s hand was trembling as Yuuri took it again, launching into mirrored chassees, linking Victor under his arm.

It was only when Victor came out the other side that Yuuri caught his expression.

_ “You better run, _ _ ” _

Victor was _ beaming _.

_ “You better run,” _

_ Another chassee, another link... _

Victor looked nothing short of delighted, grin stretched so wide over his face it must hurt and eyes nothing short of dazzling. He looked happy. He looked like he was having fun…

Yuuri pulled Victor in close.

_ “You better, you better, you better _ _ ,” _

He caught Victor’s eye as they leaned low, feet kicking in short, fast flicks beneath them. He felt his own lips quirk, Victor’s grin infectious.

There was a challenge in Victor’s eyes - _ come get me. _

_ “Run run runaway, runaway baby _ _ , _

_ Before I put my spell on you, _ _ ” _

Victor whipped round, chassee-ing forward in long bouncing gallops and Yuuri was helpless but to follow, throwing himself into the dance. He’d follow Victor anywhere. Right up to the lens of the camera crew just a heartbeat away from Victor’s plush lips, and wink, and-

Yuuri pulled him back by the hand, demanding the attention back on him.

_ “You better get get getaway, getaway darling _ _ , _

_ 'Cause everything you heard is true,” _

Everything felt _ right. _

Victor danced right into Yuuri’s hands, their steps and bodies winding around each other like it was the most natural thing in the world, meshing together like clockwork. Was this the intimacy the judges wanted? It may not be body rolls and sexy moves, but this… Yuuri felt more connected to Victor in that moment than he had ever felt to anybody else in his entire life.

When he took Victor’s hand again, it felt like they were bonded through more than just those fragile inches of skin.

_ “You poor little heart will end up alone _ _ ,” _

_ Front kick, kick, kick, kick- _

_ “'Cause lord knows I'm a rolling stone _ _ ,” _

_ Back kick, kick, kick- _

_ “So you better run run runaway,” _

Yuuri’s legs were burning through his last few kicks and flicked but one look at the carefree hand Victor wove through his hair and the joy on his face, and he suddenly felt light as a feather again. He grabbed Victor’s hand, spinning him into his arms-

_ “Runaway baby.” _

Victor threw himself into a dip so trustingly that anybody else would have called it reckless.

There was no chance Yuuri would ever let him fall.

As the last note from the music cut off sharply, silence washed over the dance floor. All Yuuri was aware of was his own ragged breathing, feeling Victor’s heaving chest press against his with every gasp, the warmth of Victor’s fingertips around the nape of his neck-

The audience roared with applause.

Yuuri gasped a smile.

He’d barely pulled Victor up to his feet again before Victor threw his arms around his neck, knocking the breath right out of his lungs.

“Yes!” he shouted over Yuuri’s shoulder, forgetting about the mics - or maybe he just didn’t care. He sounded too happy to care about something so trivial. “Yes, yes, Yes! I knew you could do it!”

Yuuri was grinning from ear to ear, knees almost buckling from exhaustion under Victor’s weight, but he didn’t care one whit. He’d done it. Victor was happy. The audience were cheering… it must have been pretty decent! He only just caught the cue from the presenter over the cheers from the audience, calling them over to the judge’s panel. 

He still didn’t stop smiling.

“I don’t know what you did, Yuuri,” the first judge said, leaning over the desk in his excitement. “But _ keep doing it _! That’s the kind of dancing we want on this show!”

If Yuuri hadn’t already been sweaty and beet red from jiving, he would have been embarrassed at the fresh flush of heat over his face. After all, he knew exactly what they’d done - blindfolding, kissing in closets, sharing lipstick in the most sensational way- 

“It was wonderful! Your steps were light, your feet were pointed - if anyone thought of you as the underdog before, they certainly don’t now! You’ve caught up!”

Yuuri knew he should be concentrating on the comments - and he was, still grinning and gasping with breathless delight - but he was also distracted. Distracted by the strong loop of Victor’s arm around his shoulders, the warmth of his skin bleeding through the thin shirt. Victor’s heart was still racing, thumping hard against the back of Yuuri’s shoulder blade.

It was polar opposite to the week before. Whereas last week Victor had been cold and distant, now he was all over Yuuri, draped over his shoulder, smiling into the side of his neck, squeezing his hand as he and Yuuri made their way to the balcony to a rousing applause.

Victor even straight up kissed the lens of the camera when they got to the top, the presenter too busy tugging Yuuri onto his mark to stop him. 

Even she was smiling...

“You certainly got Victor all hot and bothered,” she laughed, for once sounding genuine. “And I think we can all relate, can’t we folks?”

A thunder of cheers answered her.

Yuuri flushed, sliding an arm around Victor’s waist and grabbing a fistful of his shirt to help ground him.

“You looked like you had fun tonight though?”

She was probably speaking to Victor, Yuuri thought, letting his mind start to wander as the tiredness started to hit him. They always spoke to Victor, not him. He never knew what to say anyway…

But, no! - she was looking at _ him _, waiting for an answer.

Yuuri quickly stumbled for words, only barely remembering the question. “Uh-it’s always fun dancing with Victor.”

He glanced up at Victor nervously. He always said the wrong thing in front of the cameras…

Victor’s smile just widened.

_ Yuuri was not expecting that! _

His mouth dropped open - to smooth over his blunder with something cool, to thank the audience for watching, congratulate the other dancers - anything!

He was out of time though.

“The scores are in!”

The blood was pounding in his ears as he turned to the screen and Victor settled a supportive arm around his shoulders, Yuuri feeling strangely comforted by his presence rather than his usual spooked.

He tried to focus on the numbers bouncing up on the screen. 

They were good numbers… _ really _good numbers… actually, they were better numbers than Yuuri had even dared hope for in rehearsals, yet there they were! On the screen clear as day and being received with an enraptured cheer from the audience and a delighted squeeze from Victor.

“Thirty three!”

Which could only mean one thing. They were-

“That puts you at the top of this week’s leaderboard! The highest judges score out of all of our couples - Victor and Yuuri!”

Yuuri choked on his own tongue, feeling like a suffocating lump in his mouth, but he couldn’t help it. He was top of the leaderboard. The judges thought that not only was he a good dancer - but that this week, he was the _ best _!

Pride swelled in his chest - for him and for Victor. He’d wanted to make Victor proud, to show the world he wasn’t the joke the TV studio had been poised to make him. He’d never imagined it would lead him to the top of the leaderboard though! Victor was back where he belonged - in first place.

Of course, there was still the public vote…

But as far as Yuuri knew, no couple judged the best dancers by the judges had ever been put in the bottom two by the public. They were as safe as they could possibly be!

The presenter winked to the camera, beaming. 

“Let’s see if Victor and Yuuri can _ runaway _ with the leader board!”

* * *

For the first time, Yuuri was bouncing on the balls of his feet not with nerves - but the total opposite! They were lit up like all the other couples on the dance floor, spot lights above their heads ready to switch off when they were announced as safe.

Yuuri was sure they’d be safe.

They had to be safe. They were top of the leader board for Heaven’s sa-

_ “Victor and Yuuri!” _

Their spotlight went out, plunging the pair into darkness.

Yuuri gasped, delighted. 

_ First _ \- not only were they safe, but they were safe _ first _! Yuuri was never first at anything…

He didn’t bother trying to hold back, letting his body twist in Victor’s arms of its own accord and fling his arms around his neck. Victor's arms wound back around his waist, holding him tight. 

Yuuri felt powerful as his lipstick smudged on the neck of Victor's shirt, like he was staking a claim. 

"Thank you," he whispered. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song for this is [Bruno Mar's Runaway Baby](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CbE_fVjHdCY).


	4. Quickstep

Victor was on top of the world as he warmed up in the studio Monday morning the next week, smile wide on his lips and heart fluttering in his chest. He was still riding high from their victory last week, the adrenaline still humming through his veins. 

It wasn’t just the dancing that had him thrilled.

He’d finally cracked Yuuri Katsuki.

He was delighted at finally figuring him out, the weeks spent confused and longing behind them now. They’d kissed, and Yuuri hadn’t ignored him.

Victor still remembered the way Yuuri had hugged him when their names had been called as safe in the results show, the sensual slide of his hands around Victor’s neck, fingertips teasingly grazing his skin beneath the collar. It had made the breath hitch in Victor’s chest, the tender touch the most intimate moment of his life. When he’d found the lipstick smeared on his shirt after the show, he was pretty sure his heart had stopped. 

The next week was going to be even better with Ballroom week swinging back round again. Victor would finally get the romantic dance he’d wanted with the Foxtrot.

He couldn’t wait.

When Yuuri slipped into the studio a few minutes later than usual, Victor heard him before he saw him.

_ “Hai, okaasan…” _

Victor looked up just in time to see him slipping through the door, phone squished to his ear and already looking a little flushed. There was a warmth in his eyes though as Yuuri caught Victor’s gaze and mouthed a  _ ‘sorry’ _ , a sweetness in his smile that made Victor’s stomach do somersaults.

He didn’t mind one bit.

Yuuri was still talking as he changed his shoes awkwardly on the floor, phone wedged between his shoulder and ear.

Victor strained to listen, even though he didn’t have a clue what Yuuri was saying. It wasn’t about the words. Yuuri’s voice just sounded so soft speaking his native language, so melodic - so relaxed! If Victor could find a way to get that smooth rhythm from his speaking to his dancing then they’d win the competition hands down…

“ _ Victoru _ ?”

Yuuri glanced up at Victor, fingers freezing over his laces.

His cheeks flushed red when their eyes met.

Victor didn’t need to know Japanese to know what that meant...

He fought down a smug grin as Yuuri twisted away, whispering in rapidfire Japanese down the phone line and face darkening a shade. Victor decided it was the most adorable thing he’d ever seen.

He hummed the tune of their music piece for that week to himself as he waited, already imagining how Yuuri’s lithe form would sway elegantly to the choreography, how they would sweep across the dancefloor together so beautifully. Victor was aiming for the top of the leaderboard again. They’d done it once, and now Victor wanted another taste. He wanted to see that smile of Yuuri’s again.

“Sorry about that,” Yuuri said after a minute, switching back to English and shoving his phone in his bag a little clumsier than usual, going back to fumbling with his laces. “My mother…” He shrugged.

“Ah.”

Victor nodded. 

He understood mothers all too well. His own was sending him near daily texts prompting for updates on  _ that cute little Japanese boyfriend  _ of his! She was only half right - Yuuri may not be Victor’s boyfriend, but damn was he cute…

Inside though, his heart was doing backflips of joy - Yuuri had told his mother about him! He wondered if she watched the show.

“She wished us luck.” Yuuri brushed his palms awkwardly over his thighs as he stood up, face still flushed. “And, um, she asked me to pass on her thanks… f-for teaching me.”

_ And Yuuri’s mother was clearly just as adorable as her son,  _ Victor couldn’t help but think.

Victor felt something warm bubble in his heart, a part of him itching to sweep Yuuri in a tight hug and never let go. He should be thanking Yuuri, after all. Without Yuuri, he’d be on a plane back to Russia…

Which reminded him-

“I got you a coffee!” Victor suddenly remembered, darting back to his bag and the takeaway coffee cup beside it. “For doing so well last week.”

He’d wanted to do something nice. Yuuri had worked so hard last week and had done so well, Victor hadn’t been able to resist. His late night Google search of ‘n _ ice things to do for your boyfriend _ ’ had helped too.

Victor could dream…

The way Yuuri’s eyes popped made it more than worth it.

“Iced matcha latte?” he asked quietly, voice soft and almost reverent. It made Victor wonder how often Yuuri got to treat himself.

Victor’s heart skipped a beat as their fingertips brushed when he handed over the cup, hoping Yuuri didn’t notice the traitorous hitch in his voice. “O-of course.”

For the smile Yuuri flashed him in that moment, Victor would have bought him all the iced matcha lattes in the world.

* * *

“This week, we’re dancing the Quickstep,” Victor said to the camera, sitting so close to Yuuri that their shoulders were pressed together firmly. Neither one moved to part them. “This dance has all the grace of the foxtrot and all the energy of the jive combined, so it’s come at a perfect time.”

The caffeine put Yuuri on a buzz, his leg bouncing just out of view of the camera frame and a smile twitching on his face.

He didn’t want to talk.

He wanted to dance.

“We’re dancing a bittersweet jazz song, something silky smooth and fun.”

Yuuri hadn’t known the song. It hadn’t been the pick that he would have thought Victor would have gone with, expecting something classical and theatrical...but when he’d really listened to the song and the story it told, the drama it held, Yuuri understood it’s appeal.

His leg shifted slightly, pressing the outside of his thigh against Victor’s. He could feel the warmth of Victor’s skin through his leggings.

Beside him, Victor kept talking to the little red dot on top of the camera like nothing had changed.

“They’re parted lovers,” he went on flawlessly, his smooth smile hiding the wicked glint in his eye. “Only realising how much they meant to each other when it’s too late.” 

Yuuri didn’t miss the way Victor’s thigh pressed ever so slightly back against his.

* * *

Yuuri loved the quickstep.

Barely started, and he loved it. He loved the intimacy - his chest flushed with Victor’s, feeling his ribcage expand against his own with every breath, and-

Their knees knocked.

“Ow!”

Victor dropped Yuuri’s hands in a heartbeat, hopping on the spot as they shot down to cradle his crashed knee instead. 

Yuuri flushed with embarrassment, ignoring his own sting of pain. He shifted the weight off his leg to help.

It wasn’t the first time it had happened…

“You need to take bigger strides on your back steps,” Victor said stiffly, straightening up with a slight downturn in the corner of his mouth. His knees would be littered with bruises come the morning…

Being pressed together so tightly did come with some minor drawbacks. With their long galloping steps, if they weren’t perfectly in sync then it led to collisions - painful collisions! Trodden toes and knocked knees. With the speed they danced, there wasn’t time to stop until they were hunched over on the studio floor, hugging their knees and groaning with pain. 

Yuuri had noticed that it happened more on his back steps than his front just as much as Victor had.

Still, he twisted the hem of his shirt awkwardly. “I feel like I’ll fall over if I do...”

He knew the dance was all long lines and sweeping strides… but Yuuri was not as long limbed as Victor was, couldn’t reach so far as easily.

Victor had the same thought - but from the other perspective. He bowed his head, fingers rubbing at his temples. “If your strides don’t get bigger, then mine just get smaller,” he explained with a sigh. “And stuttering around the dancefloor isn’t elegant for me either.”

Yuuri hadn’t thought of that. He guessed Victor had a point…

“I’m not asking you to lunge here, Yuuri.”

Yuuri flushed.

Victor sighed again. “Look, just-”

Yuuri gasped as Victor stepped and took his arms, moulding them up into a mock hold without his partner on the other side. He straightened his torso instinctively, head tilting to the side.

Victor stepped back, fingertips cradling his chin in thought. “Now, step back - slowly! Slowly, toe first…”

Yuuri swallowed the lump in his throat.

He did what Victor said, pushing his toe slowly back along the floor like he was told, holding his frame solid as he would if they were dancing.

“Bend your knee more.”

Yuuri did - and instantly felt his balance stumble. He fought to stay still, core working to keep him strong. His toe dragged a little further along the floor.

“That’s it,” Victor smiled, stepping forward with a glow in his eye. “If you bend your knees and really open your leg from the hip, here-”

Yuuri bit down a squeak as Victor’s hands firmly grasped his hips, fingers moulding a firm path from his hip bone down his back-reaching thigh. His touch was slow and smooth - deliberate! Yuuri’s skin tingled beneath his leggings, sucking in a shuddering breath.

“If you push your knee back like that,” Victor crooned, hands still generously on Yuuri’s thighs. “Then I can’t hit it.”

It made sense.

Yuuri felt ridiculous in his half-lunge, but he knew it made sense. The more his leg was open, the more room Victor had to step into them so he didn’t have to stunt his steps. Like he’d said, that wasn’t cute either. 

Yuuri knew it made sense…

...but it still didn’t help the wobble.

His breath hitched. “I’m gonna fall!”

He didn’t dare let go, but he could feel himself falter. His leg shook, his balance challenged dangerously - he couldn’t hold it forever! He couldn’t-

Victor’s hands grabbed his.

He held Yuuri steady - both staying low - and Yuuri clung back, pressing back against Victor’s palms just enough to steady himself. His fingers shook, breath hitching in his lungs… but he didn’t fall. He blinked with surprise, suddenly sure on his feet.

When he glanced up, Victor was smiling.

“And,” Victor stepped carefully into the gap left by Yuuri’s extended leg, stride long and graceful. He nodded firmly, fingers squeezing Yuuri’s right hand. “Quick, quick. Slow ... quick, quick! Slow…”

Yuuri fell into step effortlessly with Victor, sighing with relief when the pressure was finally taken off of his flexed knee and he followed Victor into quick side steps. It felt good to move again. Yuuri felt his lips curling of their own accord, felt his chest swell against Victor’s with his next breath...

And with their next back step, Yuuri squeezed Victor’s hand - and pushed his leg back, bending his front knee deep.

He didn’t shake.

He followed the step through, weight shifting smoothly onto his back leg as Victor stepped forward, gliding gracefully together into their next quick-quick side steps. It flowed. Yuuri felt it. It was  _ beautiful. _

And so was the glow in Victor’s eyes when Yuuri glanced up, his heart in his mouth and stomach full of butterflies.

“You see,” Victor breathed, warm over Yuuri’s cheek. “Trust me.” 

* * *

When practise ended, Yuuri felt unusually confident. His heel turns were still bothering him, but overall he felt like he was doing a good job. He remembered the choreography, just tightening the screws and tweaking what didn’t work as they went along.

He was even smiling as he changed back into his outdoor trainers and slung his bag over his bag, stretching ready for his job back to the apartment.

“Oh, Yuuri!”

Yuuri spun around at Victor’s call.

He hoped Victor didn’t notice how keen he was....

Victor’s cheeks were still flushed pink from exertion. The colour really suited him, Yuuri couldn’t help but think with a thudding heart.

“Tomorrow, we’re going to the rink for Trip Day,” Victor said, brushing his bangs back from his sweaty forehead like it was the most casual thing in the world. On Victor, it was a move that belonged in a modelling campaign. “Meet you there? Eight?”

Yuuri’s heart skipped a beat.

He swallowed the lump in his throat, hoping that Victor didn’t notice the quiver in his voice. “S-sure.”

He kept it together as he closed the door behind him and made his way through the corridors, holding his breath until he was out of the street and Victor was well out of earshot...

...and then he screamed.

He didn’t care about the people that jumped on the sidewalk or the weird looks he got. His hands clasped over his mouth, eyes glittering with unshed tears.

It took him a minute to understand exactly what he was feeling - he was  _ happy! _

_ He was going to skate with Victor Nikiforov! _

* * *

When Yuuri stepped into the rink the next morning - early by fifteen minutes! - Victor was already on the ice. 

His gold blades glinted in the lights, cut smooth lines through the ice that sounded like music to Yuuri’s ears. His jaw dropped the second he saw Victor, hypnotised by his every move. He couldn’t take his eyes off him.

_ Stammi Vicino _ , he recognised instantly, even though there was no music. Yuuri had watched it endlessly when Victor had won yet another gold medal with that routine, the most beautiful skate Yuuri had ever seen, so full of passion and longing that it had left Yuuri breathless every time. Even now, it made his heart stutter in his chest. He’d know that routine anywhere…

Victor dropped down to one knee on the ice, hand sweeping delicately down the side of his face. 

He looked stunning.

Yuuri stumbled forward silently as he watched Victor move on the ice, pushing up to his feet again and arms twirling gracefully around him. Yuuri could practically hear the music as he skated, could feel the rhythm in the way Victor moved, could hear the melody in his melancholy expression… his eyes were closed, skating blind.  _ Skating for himself _ , Yuuri thought.

His hands silently braced on the barrier, eyes glowing. He wondered how often Victor had truly just skated for himself. With no coach, no judges, no competition… just for himself, because of how much he loved skating…

It made Yuuri feel special as he watched, like he was witnessing something breathlessly intimate. 

Victor.

The  _ real _ Victor.

Then Yuuri blinked and suddenly Victor was staring right back at him, frozen on the ice and eyes wide. His lips hovered apart, a flush dashing over his pale cheeks.

“Yuuri,” he breathed, so quiet that Yuuri barely heard it.

Perhaps that had been intended, Yuuri thought as he logged the panic in Victor’s eyes, noticing how they flickered subtly over his shoulder.  _ Looking for cameras,  _ he realised. 

The thought made his heart sink again, hands slipping numbly down from the rail. That side of Victor was hidden from the cameras, hidden from the world.

Hidden from him.

Victor tucked his bangs back behind his ear, gaze falling from Yuuri’s. For once, he looked lost, like he wasn’t sure what to do now that he’d been caught.

Luckily, he didn’t have to wander for long.

“Morning!”

Yuuri jumped as the camera man clapped him on the back from behind, the rest of the crew filing into the rink with him. Yuuri didn’t move as they set about taking off their coats, unloading their equipment around him like he was nothing more than part of the scenery.

He looked back to Victor.

Sure enough, the flush was gone. Victor had untucked his bangs and stood with his hips cocked out to the side, a sly smile on his lips.

To Yuuri, it looked flat.

_ That  _ Victor was back.

He just sighed sadly, and unzipped his skate bag.

* * *

“Last week, I saw Yuuri’s world,” Victor said to the cameras with his signature wink and upbeat grin. “This week, I’m showing him mine.”

_ “And… cut!” _

Yuuri didn’t move. 

He didn’t have to. He had no lines and the clip was just a few seconds long. He just had to sit there by Victor’s side while Victor prattled off his script.

Yesterday, Yuuri had been excited.

After seeing Victor skate though, a part of him wished he could start the day over and come in with everybody else having not seen anything…

He’d always known that Victor wasn’t exactly the persona that he put on. His  _ real  _ smile was heart shaped, one eye crinkled more than the other when he  _ really _ laughed, the winks and suave smirks saved for the cameras… but he had never realised just how  _ lonely _ he was.

Yuuri had seen it.

He’d felt it watching Victor skate. Victor wasn’t just trying to be cool for the cameras - he was smothering the fact that he was screaming inside.

And for a split second, Yuuri had heard him.

He wasn’t sure what to do...

A nudge on his arm jolted him back to reality though, Victor bending over beside him to adjust his laces. He watched Yuuri with guarded eyes.

“Ready?” he asked.

Yuuri huffed out a sigh.  _ Right  _ \- the skating…

He’d thought he’d be able to skate with Victor -  _ really skate _ ! Get tips on his spins, show Victor his step sequences, maybe Victor showing him some choreography that they could skate together like a pairs skate...

But then the director had come in and explained that they would instead be shooting Victor guiding Yuuri along the edge of the rink in slow laps, hand on his hip and that if Yuuri could stumble into Victor’s arms somehow that it would be absolutely perfect-

Yuuri was furious.

“I  _ can _ skate, you know,” he muttered, folding his arms stiffly across his chest. He didn’t want Victor to baby him around the rink - he wanted to show Victor what he could do!

Victor’s lips twitched.

“I know,” he said, straightening up. Something sad glittered in his gaze. “But that’s not what they want, is it?”

* * *

Yuuri did as he was told.

He let Victor guide him around the rink as per the director’s instructions, wobbling on cue and even throwing in a stumble or two for good measure. He refused to fall into Victor’s arms though.

He just couldn’t…

* * *

“Yeah, it’s hard,” he huffed to the cameras, cheeks flushed and sweat glittering on his skin. Never mind that he’d had to sprint laps up and down the rink to get it, the cameras wanting him to look exhausted next to the pristine professional. “I don’t know how Victor did it.”

Yuuri felt like a fraud with every word he said, like a liar. It made him feel dirty. It was all wrong, all fake…

_ “And Victor?” _ the camera crew prompted.

Victor cleared his throat softly. His distant eyes looked like his mind was elsewhere…

“Yuuri’s a natural,” he said, voice a bit tighter than usual. He still threw in a wink and a smile though, throwing a heavy arm around Yuuri’s shoulders and pulling him in close. “We’ll make a skater out of him in no time!”

* * *

After the cameras had switched off though-

“You’re good.”

Yuuri glanced up from his bench, Victor leaning over the barrier from the ice and a tiny frown playing on his face. So tiny it was almost indiscernible. Yuuri knew better though. He knew Victor by now.

_ Or so he’d thought… _

“I’ve been skating since I was five,” he just shrugged, wiping off the blades of his skates. “So…”

“Really?!” Victor’s eyes suddenly glowed.

Yuuri glanced over to the side, to the crew. The cameras were safely in their bags, nobody paying them any attention as they finished wrapping up the set. Yuuri wondered if they’d still be having the conversation if even a single camera had a lens still on it.

“Why did you give it up?”

Yuuri didn’t miss the sad tinge to Victor’s voice at that question. It must be a sore subject for him after his own bitter retirement.

But it was a sore subject for Yuuri too. 

His jaw clenched, hands pausing over his skates. “I didn’t…”

It took a few minutes for the pieces to click for Victor, Yuuri watching the cogs whir behind his eyes and slowly connect the dots. After a few silent moments, he spoke.

“You’re not just a fan.”

“No.”

“You have your own skates.”

“Yes.”

“So you’re serious...”

Yuuri didn’t answer that one.

It wasn’t enough for Victor though. His frown deepened, leaning a bit further over the barrier. “How serious?”

Yuuri refused to meet Victor’s eye as he shrugged, putting his skates carefully back in their bag. “I got to the Grand Prix Final once...”

“You what?!” 

If Yuuri wasn’t so uncomfortable, he would have been more than a little bit delighted at the excitement in Victor’s voice in that moment. Out of the corner of his eye, he could Victor grinning -  _ really  _ smiling, heart-shaped and everything. It made his hard heart crack just a little bit…

Because Victor had been at that final and it meant that even then he hadn’t registered on Victor’s radar.

He wasn’t surprised…

Victor’s smile chipped a little. “Why … why don’t I remember you?”

Yuuri swallowed thickly. He guessed he couldn’t hide it forever. “I came last,” he admitted quietly. “Didn’t land a single jump. Sochi…”

Sochi was a bitter memory - maybe the worst of his life. His dog had died that weekend, he’d ruined his skating career, bombed so hard in front of his hero that he’d been too ashamed to carry on after that. It had only been made worse when Victor had announced his retirement after that season. Yuuri had blown his last chance for them to share the ice. So he’d thanked his coach for his time and focused on making his college degree his life instead of skating, hoping that he wouldn’t screw that up as well.

As it turned out, he had. 

“Oh.”

Yuuri could hear Victor’s face fall in his voice, watching him straighten up from the barrier out of the corner of his eye. Now, he remembered. “That was you?”

Yuuri nodded, tongue like a wad of cotton in his mouth.

“Who’s your coach?”

Yuuri flinched.

It wasn’t his coach’s fault - it was his. It was him who hadn’t been able to handle the pressure, him who hadn’t been able to motivate himself, him who just simply hadn’t been  _ good  _ enough...

His head shook numbly, disappointed as ever in himself. “I don’t have one anymore.”

There was a pitiful pause.

“Yuuri, you can’t give up…”

Yuuri sighed, pressing his mouth into a tight smile. He didn’t care that it didn’t meet his eyes, that it was just as plastic as Victor’s camera smile as he stood up and met Victor’s eye at last. Sure enough, Victor was looking at him with glowing eyes. For once, Yuuri didn’t even want to  _ look _ at Victor.

“Not everyone can be Victor Nikiforov,” he said stiffly, slinging his bag over his shoulder. “I think that’s enough for today.”

He left the rink without another word.

* * *

Yuuri got to the studio early the next day, not wanting to see Victor’s eyes full of lingering pity already waiting for him, digging the wound in deeper. He wanted to move on. They had a routine to learn, a performance to deliver in just a couple of days where they were supposed to be close, forlorn lovers…

Yuuri didn’t know how they were going to do it.

When Victor finally showed up - this time, it was his turn to be late - he was preceded by an armful of flowers.

Yuuri’s gut wrenched.

Red roses cradled in Victor’s arm, crimson and deadly, and  _ beautiful _ \- but nowhere near as beautiful as the bright blue eyes that blinked wide with surprise over the top of the flowers when they saw Yuuri, pausing where he stood. Victor visibly swallowed, Adam’s apple bobbing just above the flower petals.

“I thought you’d be late today,” he said, voice rough.

It was only then that Yuuri noticed the bags under Victor’s eyes as he stepped slowly closer, rubbing his palms down his thighs to distract from his racing heart. “Really?”

Victor nodded. 

His eyes flickered down. “I didn’t… I didn’t think you’d want to see me.”

Yuuri had to admit, it had crossed his mind. When he’d woken up that morning, he had briefly considered not coming to training that day - or worse, going to the TV studio and officially quitting. He hadn’t been sure he’d be able to look Victor in the eye again, not sure he could get over the shame a second time when he’d never really gotten over it to begin with. He still remembered the sting as Yuri Plisetsky had told him to just retire in a bathroom in Sochi, the words hurting so much that Yuuri had holed himself up in his hotel room rather than go to the banquet with all the other skaters. He hadn’t lived it down then. He hadn’t been sure he could now.

It was only after a lot of badgering from Phichit and the twist in his gut that told him he would regret it in the long run that had convinced him to come. 

“I’m sorry about yesterday.” Victor said softly, drawing Yuuri’s attention back to him. He held out the flowers carefully, eyes glowing with sincerity. Yuuri believed it as he took the ribboned bouquet out of Victor's arms. “I upset you.”

_ To put it mildly, _ Yuuri winced, clutching the flowers close. “It’s okay.”

It wasn’t.

But in that moment, Yuuri’s chest was too tight to say anything else, voice strangled in his throat. He could feel Victor’s eyes watching him, still wary, still cautious…

He sighed, sensing that he wouldn’t get away with nothing.

“The reason I got into skating was because of you,” he finally said quietly, tracing a pattern over the rose petals with his finger. It took his mind off the heat warming his cheeks. “I was a huge fan when I was little. I wanted to be just like you. So when I got the chance to skate on the same ice as you in the final and-”

His breath hitched. 

He couldn’t finish, chest tightening painfully. Fresh shame bolted through him, fingers clenching just a little too tight around the flower stems.

Luckily, Victor didn’t press him for more. “I’m flattered, Yuuri.”

He didn’t sound flattered - he sounded sad...

Yuuri’s heart clenched. 

“Do you still skate?”

Yuuri shrugged feebly. “When I can,” he mumbled. “It doesn’t mean much without a coach though.”

He would always love skating - competitive or not - but he would be lying if he said that it didn’t have a bitter edge to it now like it hadn’t before. He hadn’t achieved what he’d wanted and without a coach, he never would. He couldn’t do it alone. He simply couldn’t. And every time he stepped on the ice, he was reminded of his failure. 

He wished Victor would stop asking about it...

“Why did you stop?”

Yuuri didn’t look up from the flowers as he shrugged. “Money. My family doesn’t exactly have much and when I lost at Sochi and everything else… it just got worse and worse, and I couldn’t keep doing it anymore. Everything just-” he sucked in a shaky breath. “-fell apart.”

He really didn’t want to talk about it.

He wanted to put the flowers down, turn on the music, and dance until his legs quaked and he was out of breath. He wanted to distract himself, to run away from it with Victor…

Victor crossed his arms over his chest, finger poised thoughtfully over his lips. Yuuri could see his brain working behind his eyes, a tiny frown on his brow.

He didn’t want to know what he was thinking.

Yuuri knew he wouldn’t like it. He knew Victor well enough by now that whenever Victor  _ thought _ , nothing good ever came of it...

“What if you had a coach?” Victor finally said quietly, eyes snapping up to catch Yuuri’s. They were razor sharp, deadly serious. “Would you skate again?”

Yuuri’s breath hitched, heart racing in his chest.

He didn’t like the look in Victor’s eyes. It was too serious, too piercing - like he could see right through Yuuri and hear his heartbeat as clear as day for himself, see the longing in his gaze...

He staggered back a step. 

“I-I’m too old.”

Something glinted in Victor’s gaze. “I didn’t retire until I was twenty seven...”

Yuuri’s fingers tightened around the flowers. A stray leaf dropped away from the stem. “As I said yesterday,” he forced out through gritted teeth, blinking fast. “I’m not you.”

_ He wished he was. _

“But you could be.”

Yuuri had had enough of this.

He turned his back on Victor, sucking in a few steady breaths as he put the flowers by his gym back across the studio, staring down at the fine veins in the petals. They really were such beautiful flowers, wasted on him. A lot of things were wasted on him.

The thought made him pause.

“You don’t even know if I’m any good,” he finally muttered as he straightened up, not sure if he was saying it to talk Victor out of it or himself.

He paused again though when Victor didn’t immediately say something.

A guilty silence followed.

He twisted round, hoping his dread didn’t show in his wide eyes as much as he felt that it did. “D-do you?”

Victor looked guilty, cheeks flushed.

“You didn’t…”

Victor cleared his throat softly, eyes not quite meeting Yuuri’s. “I may have found some videos.”

“No.”

“Yuuri, you weren’t bad.”

“I was.”

“You have so much potential! You had great form on the ice!”

“But my jumps-”

“-your jumps just lacked confidence! You can learn that, Yuuri, you just-”

“Victor.”

This time, Victor stopped talking.

Yuuri wasn’t sure what it was - whether it was the hard edge to his eyes as he finally caught Victor’s attention, the clenched fists at his sides, or the stiff crack in his voice, but  _ something _ got through at last. Yuuri blinked fast, not trusting himself to keep his eyes dry if he didn’t.

He just shook his head, throat tight. “No.”

He couldn’t put himself through that again.

* * *

Yuuri didn’t get swept up in the dance like he’d hoped. Instead, he stumbled on his heel turns, his gallops were just slightly off beat, his sharp turns were slow and sluggish…

He still couldn’t get it off of his mind. 

His brow was still furrowed as they slumped down for a break, sweating and tired, but still _ thinking _ -

“Do you miss it?” he asked, breaking through the silence. He glanced over his shoulder at Victor. “Skating?”

Victor went stiff.

But Yuuri had to ask. He couldn’t stop thinking about the smooth, shimmering ice, the sound of smooth, cutting blades and the tempting chill of cold creeping along bare skin, teasing and tempting. How could anybody resist? How could  _ Victor  _ resist, he who had been closest of them all!

An unreadable look crossed over Victor’s face, eyes darting away from Yuuri’s for a split traitorous second.

“A little,” he said, voice tight. “I was Victor Nikiforov for a long time, skating star and medal winner, and… without it, I’m not really sure who I am anymore. I’m still trying to work it out. I guess,” he sucked in a deep breath, fingers raking through his hair. “That was one reason I was so desperate to stay in this show. Here, I can be Victor Nikiforov for a little longer.”

Yuuri’s heart clenched, fingers curling at his sides - it hadn’t been what he’d been expecting. 

It only made the sadness sitting in his chest from seeing Victor skating alone at the rink all the deeper, sitting heavier in his gut. A new dimension cracked in Victor’s once 2D persona. 

Yuuri pushed himself to his feet, mouth pressed tight in resolve and heart hammering away in his chest. He could feel Victor’s eyes watching him.

He didn’t stop as he crossed the studio to his bag, slipping a single red rose free from the others in the bouquet

The smile that spread over Victor’s face as Yuuri handed it to him was more than worth it. 

* * *

“I told you, Phichit, it’s not like that…”

Yuuri had the phone squished to his ear just off-set, arms crossed over his torso and a small scowl pulled over his face. They were in the main ballroom, shooting a dress rehearsal for Saturday night. Yuuri stood halfway down one of the aisles, far enough away from the cameras and microphones to not be a bother.

He was bored. He and Victor’s slot was supposed to have been over half an hour ago, but Victor had decided that his costume just didn’t sit right and had insisted that someone in the costume department fix it before the rehearsal.

So Yuuri had waited alone - bored in his tuxedo - until his phone had rang.

_ “Yuuri!”  _

Yuuri winced, jerking the phone away from his ear it was so loud. 

_ “Of course, it’s like that! He got you coffee!” _

Yuuri blamed the boredom. He hadn’t told Phichit about the coffee and flowers until then and probably never would have if it hadn’t been for the boredom eating away at him. The coffee and flowers, he wouldn’t have had a problem with. The coffee, flowers, and the glowing look in Victor’s eyes when he looked at Yuuri - shred between something sad and adoring at the same time - that, he had no idea what to do with.

“It’s just coffee...” 

_ “Yuuri, it’s never just coffee!! Have I not taught you anything?! You don’t remember someone’s coffee order if you don’t like them!” _

Yuuri rolled his eyes, trying to ignore the butterflies in his stomach.

He wasn’t sure what he wanted to hear. He’d always adored Victor - more than just a professional hero if he was honest with himself - but… it couldn’t be. Victor was Victor Nikiforov. Impossibly beautiful and talented beyond measure, while Yuuri was just … Yuuri. It was too impossible, too good to be true.

Embarrassing himself in front of Victor in Sochi had been bad enough. Breaking his own heart chasing something that he was imagining would be even worse.

But then on the off chance that Victor really did like him…

Yuuri wanted to do anything to see that delicate smile curl over Victor’s lips, to see his cheeks flush, and his eyelashes dip low-

Someone walked into him.

Yuuri dropped the phone, heart stopping dead in his chest for a traitorous second as he watched it fall, watched it bounce on the carpeted floor for one, two beats before it settled. It didn’t crack, Yuuri finally breathing out a sigh of relief.

He glanced up, whoever it was that walked into him paused a few steps ahead, waiting. They hadn’t helped, Yuuri dimly registered. They hadn’t apologised.

Yuuri soon gathered they had no intention to.

He recognised her. 

Tall and blonde, slim build in a long, sweeping pink dress and usually pretty features twisted in a scowl. She was a news anchor, one of the celebrities. Yuuri had seen her on TV.

There was none of the cheeriness that she had on screen staring back at him though, all cold eyes and proud, arrogant shoulders.

“Watch it, loser!” she snapped.

Suddenly, Yuuri realised that she hadn’t just walked into him. She’d  _ knocked  _ into him on purpose…

His jaw tensed, hands tensing at his sides.

He knew he wasn’t like the other contestants. In any competition there was tension between competitors, but Yuuri knew it was more than that. 

He wasn’t a celebrity.

Everyone else with a professional partner was a news presenter, or actor, or singer - someone with a Wikipedia page! Yuuri wasn’t like that. He was a nobody compared to them, and they knew it. 

Still, he forced himself to stand tall, refusing to back down.

After all,  _ he _ was the one who had Victor - not them.

The presenter just rolled her eyes. Yuuri couldn’t remember her name. Brianne, or Tiffany, or… something. He wasn’t sure. “You’re just a joke.” she spat. “Sooner or later, everyone will realise that - Victor included.”

The last two words stung the most.

Yuuri didn’t back down though.

He held her glare, head high and back straight as she slunk away to the dance floor, skirt sweeping behind her. It wasn’t until he went to pick up his phone that he noticed that his hands were shaking.

“ _ Yuuri?” _ he could hear Phichit’s frown down the phone line.  _ “What happened? Are you okay?” _

Yuuri sucked in a shuddering breath.

He honestly wasn’t sure.

* * *

“Quick, quick! And one, and two, an-  _ whoa _ !”

Yuuri gasped as he all but sent Victor flying, missing his step and Victor tripping hard and fast over his sloppy leg. He caught the flash of Victor’s bright blue eyes, felt him scramble for purchase on the front of Yuuri’s black jacket…

It wasn’t enough.

Yuuri tripped over his own feet in an attempt to grab him, both of them crashing to the floor in an inelegant tangle of limbs.

Yuuri felt himself go white as a sheet as he lay on the floor, hands coming up to smother his face. He wished they really could smother him, that he could just disappear, and  _ go _ , and-

Victor laughed.

“What was that?” he chuckled, pushing his hair back from his face as he set up. A flush was set high on his cheekbones. 

“I-I-”

Yuuri really didn’t know. 

He couldn’t settle. Ever since the dress rehearsal yesterday, he’d just been… off. He’d screwed up then too, managing to get tangled in his mic and start on the wrong beat like an idiot. When he’d woken up that morning, he’d felt inexplicably sick with nerves. Getting to the studio for filming that morning hadn’t made it easier. 

The noise from the audience was still deafening behind the dancefloor, Yuuri hearing every voice like a mocking laugh ringing in his ears.

Soon, they might be.

He was shaking as he stumbled to his feet, hands sweaty as he pulled Victor up too. He hoped Victor didn’t notice. He did notice the scuff marks on Victor’s knees though, marring his otherwise flawless outfit. 

“Oh God…”

_ They would be on in less than fifteen minutes! _

Victor glanced down… and shrugged. “They can patch it up with some shoe polish or something,” he just waved off, impossibly casual.

He didn’t run off to wardrobe though, didn’t try to brush the marks down on his knees. It didn’t look good. The marks made it look like Victor had been on his knees coupled with the flush on his cheeks and dipping beneath his collar… Yuuri swallowed thickly.

He would lose his job for sure.

He almost wished that a producer or director would walk by and just fire him on the spot before their performance, saving him the shame of having to dance.

He didn’t want to dance. He wanted to hide.

There was no escape though, he knew, and the thought filled him with terror. He was going to be exposed as a loser, just like the woman had said. First Victor had seen him fail at skating and now he would see that Yuuri was just as disappointing in dancing after all.

* * *

_ “Dancing the quickstep, Victor Nikiforov and his partner, Yuuri Katsuki.” _

Yuuri had walked on stage in a daze, legs feeling like they were made of lead and breaths huffing in his stuffy ears. It was just as bad as when he’d started the competition - no, it was  _ worse!  _ His feet carried him on autopilot to his marker, dread settled sickeningly in his stomach.

Then the band strung up.

The fast jazz beat roared through the ballroom, rich and strong. Yuuri felt it race through him, thrumming him to life. 

He stepped on instinct.

His arms waved gracefully through the air as he twirled to the beat, forcing a crooked smile on his face. He was supposed to be the beauty. The love ever so just out of reach…

He didn’t feel like a beauty.

He felt like a mess.

He wasn’t sure how he was possibly going to convince the world and the judges as Victor caught his hand from behind, pulling him elegantly under his arm.

Even out of the corner of his eye he caught Victor’s dramatic love-struck smile. Nobody would ever believe that someone as beautiful as Victor would chase after someone like Yuuri, even for just a performance! It was ridiculous. Everyone would see.  _ Everyone _ …

Yuuri felt how pale he was as Victor pulled him gently into his arms, raising his hands into hold. He let the smile die on his face.

_ “Nobody knows the way I'm feeling _

_ I try to scream instead I smile,” _

_ Forward, quick-quick, slow, back, quick-quick, slow, _ Yuuri repeated it in his head as he let his feet run on autopilot beneath him, gliding across the floor. Victor’s hands were soft in his own, steps slotting into the gaps Yuuri made perfectly.

The basics went flawlessly; back, forward, lockstep - by some miracle Yuuri didn’t trip over himself!

_ There was still time though _ , he reminded himself, sliding into a slow beat-lagging glide to the side and foot dragging behind them. It was graceful, it was elegant, Victor’s arms holding their frame arched high and dignified. 

For a fraction of a minute, hope flickered in Yuuri’s chest.

_ “The world is strange,” _

_ Back, side, close,  _ Yuuri drilled into his head, feet mercifully following.

_ “I must be dreaming,” _

_ Trot! Trot! Drag… _

Yuuri felt Victor’s ribcage press firmly against his as he breathed. It didn’t do as much to comfort him as he’d hoped...

_ “How can I stop this just for a while,” _

_ Back step into a spin-point turn. _

Yuuri felt his balance tip ever so slightly over as he fell out of the point turn, gripping Victor’s hands hard to try and regain some composure. He couldn’t fall - and Victor had said to trust him, so…

They turned to face the length of the ballroom, Yuuri sucking in a deep breath before the next beat.

Victor squeezed his fingers.

_ “The morning rain will soon be falling,” _

Yuuri forgot to breathe through their hop-steps up the ballroom, only noticing as they span in a twist in the middle of their run and he gulped in a huge breath of air when he ran out. His spine arched with his breath, head glancing down.  _ More points down the drain _ , he couldn’t help but think.

Victor’s knees were still a little grey but thankfully they were moving too fast for anybody to really be able to tell. Victor hadn’t even cared when they hadn’t made it to wardrobe in time.

Yuuri cared.

Yuuri noticed.

They slid to a gentle stop.

_ “But I don't care cause I've already cried,” _

Yuuri felt dizzy as their heels flicked up fast, head tipping on beat too. He blinked hard to steady himself.

His charleston steps felt lazy and dull - not at all light and bouncy like they should be. It didn’t feel fun anymore. Now it felt wrong, too real, like a nightmare. His little jumps either side of Victor’s feet felt more like shuffles.  _ More points... _

_ “Can't see the meaning of this,” _

Yuuri spun out of Victor’s hold with a graceful brush of the hand, face arching away from him in a coy, dramatic  _ no _ …

_ “But one things certain,” _

_ I'm afraid,” _

Victor spun after him, catching Yuuri’s hand from behind. He darted playfully from one side to the other, glancing over Yuuri’s shoulder with a charming smile.

_ “I'm losing my mind,” _

Yuuri looped under Victor’s arm and they were back in hold, pressed close again. He wondered if Victor could feel how fast his heart was racing, breath hitching in his chest as the chorus came.

And then they were off-

_ “Somebody else will be her boyfriend, _

_ Somebody else will have her heart,” _

Yuuri felt light as he and Victor ran along the ballroom to the music, his heart racing to the quick jazz tune. They were so fast as they twirled, spinning and spinning so the world was just a blur, so it was so easy to forget there was an audience and that it wasn’t just him and Victor dancing in the studio alone together.

_ “But still I love her so,” _

Yuuri twirled under Victor’s arm, reaching out to the audience before him like he was reaching out for more, for the next thrill, getting bored of Victor behind him still clinging to his hand-

_ “How could I let her go,” _

Victor pulled Yuuri back, spinning into his arms.

_ It was actually going well, _ Yuuri’s heart flickered with hope. They might actually be able to do it after all...

_ “I was fooling myself,” _

Yuuri spun to meet Victor’s eye and hands in hold as the chorus beat struck and the jazz riff began, lively and delighted. Yuuri loved that bit of the music in rehearsal, the energetic ring of the violins such a sharp contrast to the melancholy lyrics in the rest of the song.

For that one part, he could really  _ dance _ .

He let his mind wander, body running on muscle memory. He had drilled the routine into his being for the last five days and for that one part, he didn’t have to think. He didn’t have to be a character.

He could be free.

For once, he didn’t worry. He took a deep breath and let his feet carry him, crossing the dancefloor with Victor in his arms and the air breezing through his lightly gelled hair like running fingers. It was soothing, calming. He could focus on the dance, focus on moving to the music, surrendering to the rhythm...

They step, hopped, and glided to the beat, Yuuri finally shutting his brain off and  _ dancing _ . 

He focussed on the stretch in his waist as his torso arched, in the tilt of his head in an elegant pose, the freedom in the rush of air as he and Victor leapt gloriously through the air at the same time… his body felt loose and free, like it knew exactly what to do as long as Yuuri didn’t think - especially about Victor! Especially about the softness of his hands, the delicate flick of his hair, the way he moved so perfectly with Yuuri like they were made to do this togeth-

_ No! _

Yuuri jolted himself to reality, going tense in Victor’s arms. For once though, it played to their strengths.

Yuuri’s character was supposed to be uncomfortable in Victor’s hold, Yuuri reminded himself, pulling himself out of his haze and back to the floor. He’d had the romantic dance with Victor, but now his character was bored of him, wanting something new, another thrill…

Yuuri chasseed away from Victor, arms reaching out for something - for  _ someone  _ \- new.

The violins hitched sharply, racing into a faster tempo.

Victor pulled him back.

Yuuri ducked under his arm as soon as he could, spinning away in the other direction and reaching out- 

Again, the violins hitched.

And again, Victor pulled him back, desperate to cling onto his love.

Yuuri felt his heart in his mouth all too real, his characters discomfort all too his own as well. He didn’t want to be there. He didn’t know what was going on in Victor’s head, what he was thinking behind those beautiful eyes. 

Maybe Phichit had been wrong and the coffee and flowers had meant nothing, but if he was wrong? What if Victor did like him? Victor had made it painfully clear how much he needed this show and what if Yuuri wasn’t enough? It wouldn’t just be professional anymore, wouldn’t just be a job - it would be Yuuri’s fault. That sadness that Yuuri had seen on the ice - it would be Yuuri’s fault!

Yuuri’s breath hitched.

_ It was too much. _

With his next spin away, he really did wish that Victor’s fingers would slip out of his and let him go. He was going to ruin Victor on this show just like the woman had said.

He was going to break Victor’s heart…

The beat was hammering impossibly fast, Yuuri’s heart racing along with it until Victor caught his hand yet again and pulled him back. Their chests met, Victor’s hands clasping either side of his face, and-

The music slammed to a halt.

For a heart stopping second, there was silence.

And all Yuuri could see was Victor’s eyes. Glittering, vulnerable, adoring eyes... his heart dropped to his stomach in horror.

He knew that look. He’d spent most of his teenage years looking at Victor’s posters with that look…

_ “Somebody else... will be her boyfriend...” _

Soft piano swept over the ballroom, slow and sad. It weighed on Yuuri’s heart, holding Victor’s eye despite the utter panic he knew must be in his own. Victor was so close his breath sighed over Yuuri’s lips, sending shivers down his spine.

Yuuri was numb as he let Victor’s fingertips slowly trail a path down his arm, helpless to resist as he entwined their hands and gently curled their fingers together. 

“ _ Somebody else ...will have her heart...” _

He was a rag doll curled delicately under Victor’s arm, limp and spineless. He couldn’t help it.

Victor’s eyes were still on him. Eyes so full of adoration, of hope, of something so warm and beautiful that Yuuri didn’t dare put a name to it… all poised to shatter. All ready to smash when Yuuri inevitably disappointed him. Last week Yuuri had thought all the affection had been trivial for the dance, kissing him to get him in role and a bit of fun for Victor.

Now though, Yuuri could see it was hardly anything but trivial. The look in Victor’s eyes mattered. It  _ cared. _

_ It cared too much. _

_ “But I still need her so,” _

Yuuri froze in horror as Victor walked around him, turning Yuuri under his arm like a ballerina. 

_ “How could I let her go...” _

Yuuri turned slowly, feeling as fragile as glass. His fingers felt numb in Victor’s, cold and lifeless.  _ What had he done? _ He’d fucked up. He’d fucked up big time. He was going to ruin  _ everything. _

The beat crept up in tempo, matching the rapidly quickening beat of Yuuri’s panicking heart.

_ “I was foolin’ myself,” _

Yuuri fell out of his pose, staggered back from Victor, out of his embrace. He couldn’t be there. He absolutely couldn’t be there, anywhere but there-

The violins raced faster and faster, chasing him away. 

Yuuri glanced around him. Colours danced, mashed and wild, until he slapped his hands over his eyes dragging them down his face as a moan slipped his lips. He was going to be sick.

He stumbled back-

And then he tripped.

_ “I was foolin’ myself!” _

Yuuri’s breath caught in his throat as he flailed, fighting wildly to stay on his feet and arms windmilling through the air. It was ridiculous. It was horrific. 

He’d just lost them the competition.

Yuuri glanced up, hearing the gasp rip through the audience.

He found Victor first - or more specifically, his eyes.

They looked so disappointed.

Yuuri couldn’t take it.

He turned and fled off the floor before the music had even finished playing.

* * *

Yuuri found a bin backstage but only barely, doubled over and hurling up his dinner spectacularly. Behind him, he could hear the tentative applause of the audience, nobody quite sure what had happened.

_ He  _ wasn’t even sure what had happened.

He’d faced the pressure of carrying Victor’s hopes and happiness and he had _failed_ _miserably_. 

Victor must hate him. He’d never want to see Yuuri again, let alone dance with him, let alone see him skate and help him like he’d been so eager to the other day. Yuuri bet he would be lucky if he left the studio without security hurling him out-

“Yuuri?”

Yuuri’s breath hitched, cold sweat running down his spine.

_ Victor. _

He jerked up from the bin, twisting back towards the stage in a way that made his stomach whimper.

He found Victor easily though.

Silver hair whipped around him, skin frightfully pale and blue eyes frantic as they searched, weaving through the backstage crew. All of them had been staring at Yuuri just seconds before, their flickering eyes giving him up in a heartbeat. Victor’s widened when they found him, mouth dropping open.

“Yuuri! Yuuri!!”

Yuuri straightened up, feeling shaky. Victor’s face swam before him as he ran across the backstage, grabbing Yuuri by his upper arms. 

“Yuuri, you’ve got to come back out!” he said, voice calm but quick. His eyes betrayed his urgency. “I told them it was part of the choreography but they’ll only believe it if you come out. You  _ can’t  _ run off! They’ll disqualify you.”

Yuuri was amazed they hadn’t already…

Victor’s fingers were tight around Yuuri’s arms. He wouldn’t be surprised if he had bruises there in the morning, blinking dumbly like an idiot.

His mouth opened and closed like a fish.

“I-I’m sorry,” he finally managed to gasp.

He knew it wasn’t enough.

“It’s okay,” Victor flickered him a tense smile.  _ It wasn’t okay. _ “I’ll take care of it, okay? We just need to go-”

“I-I’m sorry-”

Victor’s mouth pressed into a thin line, abandoning Yuuri’s arm to grab his hand instead. He pulled. “I know,” he said. “We just-”

“I didn’t mean to! I don’t-”

“ _ Yuuri _ !” 

Yuuri gasped, blinking wide.

For a split second, Victor had looked angry - the same anger that Yuuri had been terrified of, the same hatred ripping through his gaze like wildfire. It was gone as soon as quick as it had come though, vanished in a split second.

But it was too late.

Yuuri had seen.

It left him speechless.

Victor’s eyes softened as he lowered his voice, hands softening too. “It’s okay,” he said quietly. “It’s okay… but if we don’t go out there again in the next thirty seconds, then it's all over. We can talk about it later.”

Yuuri didn’t want to talk about it later. He didn’t want to go out there and face his humiliation, face his mistake.

Victor’s hand wasn’t pulling anymore.

Was he letting Yuuri choose?

If they went back out there it would be a nightmare. Yuuri would have to face the world he’d just ran away from and humiliated Victor in front of. His stomach jerked just thinking about it…

But if they didn’t go out, they would be disqualified. Then it really would be over. Victor would have to go home to Russia and he’d never see Yuuri again.

Yuuri’s eyes glittered.

“It’ll be okay,” Victor said again, thumb stroking over the back of Yuuri’s hand. “I promise.”

He couldn’t promise that. Yuuri knew very well that there was no way it could be fully okay. They might not be immediately disqualified, but this time they might get sacked for real off air. They might not get any votes and be sent home. Yuuri had really made a scene, really screwed them over-

But he couldn’t put his pride above Victor’s happiness. He had to  _ try _ , for Victor’s sake. Victor had ran after him for Heaven’s sake…

Yuuri swallowed the lump in his throat, wiping his mouth on the back of his sleeve and trying not to wince at how much wardrobe would hate him for it. He’d ruined his chances with everyone else, he might as well add the costume department to the list.

The hand in Victor’s squeezed back.

A small smile flickered over Victor’s face and that was enough to cement Yuuri’s decision, to steel his heart enough to take a step after Victor back towards the stage curtain. 

The second he stepped out, the audience was drowned out by the ringing in his ears, anything he might have said caught by the lump in his throat. He knew he must look a mess. Cold sweat stuck to his pale, clammy skin, feeling his hand tremble in Victor’s and his knees go weak. He hoped nobody noticed the smudge of vomit left on his sleeve. That really would be the worst.

As always, he let Victor do the talking.

“Wow!” the presenter cheered as they drew by her on their mark, her tone just a little off than usual. She had no idea what was going on… “What a dramatic performance!”

Yuuri didn’t move. 

He didn’t even smile, hearing the uncertainty in the presenter’s usually confident voice and feeling it quake him to the core. He’d really screwed up…

Luckily, there wasn’t much time to wallow. Yuuri’s run off had mercifully used up all of their critique time and they were quickly waved off to the balcony. Even there, the minute they found their mark, the judge’s scores were announced.

Yuuri didn’t look.

He only looked up when Victor’s hand squeezed his and the final number was on the screen.

_ Twenty _ .

His heart fell.

It wasn’t great. It was their worst score to date, but considering Yuuri’s flight and the vomit in the bin backstage, he guessed it wasn’t bad in the bigger picture of things. It could be worse. He deserved worse.

* * *

Yuuri felt cold as he stood under the spotlights for the public vote unveiling, Victor’s hands too soft on his arm and hip. In the back of his head, Yuuri told himself it wasn’t what he thought. It wasn’t that Victor couldn’t bear to touch him, but in that moment, it felt like it. He wouldn’t be surprised.

Names had started to be called out. Safe couples, spotlights going black around them one by one.

Victor and Yuuri didn’t join them.

One couple turned red, signalling the first couple in the bottom two. They’d be in the dance off. Yuuri flickered across the ballroom, realising it was the news presenter that had mocked him at the rehearsal. He felt too depressed to feel smug though, especially when his own light was still painfully illuminated.

His face was drawn as he stared dead ahead, already feeling numb in his chest as the presenter continued.

“The other couple,” she called out from her earpiece. “In the dance off is…”

The dramatic pause felt like it went on for a lifetime.

Yuuri could feel the blood pulse through his body, heart beating so hard he felt like he was shuddering with it. Could Victor feel it? Could he tell how nervous he was? Yuuri couldn’t bring himself to look back and see if Victor was just as anxious too, just as tense.

The breath hitched in Yuuri’s chest. The guilt sat heavily in his chest, only sinking deeper and deeper with every passing second until-

_ “Victor and Yuuri.” _

Yuuri pressed his eyes shut and didn’t fight the silent tears that ran down his cheeks.

* * *

Yuuri still had his eyes shut to the world as he sat backstage, dumped in a chair and too miserable to move. They were resetting the dance floor for the dance off.

They were in the dance off.

As if once wasn’t bad enough, now Yuuri had to relive it all over again. 

He bowed his head, fingers raking through his hair. It was a new low. He hadn’t even felt so bad after the Grand Prix Final all those years ago! Somehow, this stung worse.

Victor hadn’t said a word.

He just leaned against the wall a few paces away, arms folded across his chest and staring off into the distance. Regretting his choice of partner no doubt…

All of a sudden though, he perked up.

“Yuuri,” Victor straightened up off the wall, eyes widening as they peeked through the backstage curtain to the dance floor beyond. “Yuuri, come here! Something’s happening.”

Yuuri didn’t want to move. He didn’t want to see the lights or whichever singer the show had brought in to flog their new single or-

“We’ve just heard word,” the presenter’s voice rang out, voice low and sombre. Her elimination voice, Yuuri recognised.  _ Bad news.  _ He perked up at that too, leaning over to see the ballroom around Victor’s hip. She was talking into a camera at the head of the ballroom. “That Brittany is unable to perform in the dance-off due to injury. As a result, she will be withdrawing from the competition.”

Yuuri heard ringing in his ears.

His jaw dropped open in shock, tingles racing up and down his skin. He’d thought he’d seen her limp a little as she’d walked off the dance floor earlier, but he’d never imagined...

“That means that Victor and Yuuri will advance to next week.”

Yuuri slumped back in his chair, head light.

They were through. He didn’t have to dance again. He didn’t have to relive that horrible moment over, and over again...

There was no celebration though.

Victor didn’t even smile as he stayed watching through the curtain, Yuuri turning away to stare between his knees instead. Victor didn’t look at him. He didn’t touch him. Perhaps he could sense the horror rolling off Yuuri in waves, could see the absolute mortification on his face if he so much as even glanced over…

They’d gotten through on a technicality. On  _ luck _ .

It wasn’t a victory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter involved a ridiculous amount of skipping around my kitchen trying to get some of the choreography on beat, you have no idea  
Luckily, quickstep is my favourite <3
> 
> So the song for this week is [Alexander Rybak's Foolin'](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Qh0aBKvYVNA).
> 
> Thanks for reading and hope you enjoyed it!


	5. Paso Doble

Yuuri felt sick the moment he woke up on Monday morning, groaning into his pillow. He didn’t want to go to the studio. 

Maybe he could call in sick.

He  _ did  _ feel sick - but that was probably the pity eating of too much junk food over the weekend and abhorrent amounts of crying more than anything. It probably wouldn’t go down too well with the producers, and lying was just something Yuuri didn’t think he could do. He’d already disgraced himself enough. He couldn’t keep digging himself a deeper hole.

His limbs felt like lead as he picked himself up and dressed, stomach in knots. He looked pale in the mirror.

Victor hadn’t text him.

They hadn’t spoken after Saturday’s show, Yuuri too ashamed to look him in the eye let alone speak to him. What could he say? Sorry for running away? Sorry for almost getting them disqualified despite all the work that Victor put in? It wasn’t good enough and Yuuri knew it all too well.

But he couldn’t avoid it forever.

Walking into the studio, he felt like he was walking to his own execution. His bag was like a weight dragging over his shoulder and his head hung low, too ashamed to look up.

He knew he was just delaying the inevitable. If anything, he was making this worse for himself - the cameras would be in the studio that day, recording them for the training clip. If they caught him like this, it would almost certainly be included, his shame broadcast for the world to see…

Before he’d even set his bag down though, a gentle touch brushed the back of his shoulder.

Yuuri flinched on instinct.

Victor looked hurt as his hand withdrew, gaze falling to the floor as he stepped back a respectful step. “I think we need to talk.”

Yuuri tried desperately not to cry.

He didn’t say a word as he followed Victor out the studio door, catching a glimpse of the camera crew still scrambling to set up in the far corner. Whatever it was Victor wanted to say, he wanted to say it away from the camera lens. The thought made Yuuri nervous.

_ This is it _ , he thought as Victor led him to a cafe down the street, refusing to lift his eyes over the rim of the matcha latte Victor bought him. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to keep his composure if he did.

Seeing the disappointment on Victor’s face once was already once too many. 

For a moment, neither of them said anything. They sipped their coffees silently, eyes down, until-

“What happened on Saturday?”

It was quiet. Yuuri flinched at how fragile Victor sounded, how vulnerable and broken.

He recognised that feeling.

His hands tightened around his cup. How could he possibly put it into words? He’d been so scared of disappointing Victor that day, of letting down his lifetime hero and someone who had grown to be so much more than that to him. Just looking at Victor hurt. Victor didn’t know what it was like to fail - not like Yuuri did. He was Victor Nikiforov! He wouldn’t understand...

“Um…”

Yuuri swallowed the lump lodged in his throat, butterflies fluttering in his stomach. He’d give anything to be anywhere else in that moment. 

“I-I don’t cope with pressure well,” he managed to force out, thumb rubbing a pattern in the side of the cup. Yuuri watched it to distract himself. “I didn’t want to let you down.”

It was a battle to force the words out, throat tight and fighting to keep them locked away. His face flared red, feeling the heat creep up the back of his neck. 

He didn’t want to do this.

A hand smoothed over his around his cup, one with long, pale fingers. Yuuri went ramrod straight in his seat.

“Yuuri…”

A thumb brushed over his knuckles. It was such a sweet gesture, so gentle, so careful, so caring…

Yuuri mentally shook the thought out of his head. It was ridiculous thoughts like that that had helped get him into this mess in the first place.

When he was brave enough to look up though, he couldn’t deny what was right in front of him. Victor’s eyes glowed. Soft like molten crystal and silver eyelashes fluttering slowly, softly. He was waiting, listening - listening to Yuuri. Those eyes didn’t lie. For all Victor’s facades, his eyes were always brutally honest.

It scared Yuuri.

He ripped his hand away, rubbing his fingers under the table. 

When Victor sat back in his chair, Yuuri didn’t miss the little scowl pulling down the corner of his mouth. “You asked me to be myself,” he said, voice clipped. “But when I do, you lie to me.”

Yuuri gasped, head jerking up.

“I’m not lyi-”

“Hiding, then,” Victor didn’t let him finish, just as icy as before. “Why won’t you tell me what’s wrong?”

“I-I-” Yuuri tripped over his own tongue.  _ He couldn’t.  _ “I told you-”

“Yes, I heard that,” Victor waved off, hand batting dismissively through the air. “But that’s not everything and you won’t tell me.”

Yuuri bit his lip at that one.

He couldn’t. He simply couldn’t. His heart clenched in his chest just thinking about the jumble of emotions that had crashed through him on Saturday night, not brave enough to confront them himself let alone confess them to Victor. He wasn’t brave enough for that.

“Do you regret it? The show?”

_ Yes. _

“No!” Yuuri said, quicker than he meant to.

He knew Victor didn’t miss it…

He glanced back down to his lap guiltily, blood roaring in his ears. Was Victor going to hold Yuuri hostage in the cafe until he told him? Until he spilled out his heart in a messy flood of tears and anxiety and heartbreak for his hero to see, making himself just another disappointment in Victor’s eyes…

“Tell me in Japanese.”

That made Yuuri look up in surprise, a frown cutting through his panic. “What?”

Across the table though, Victor looked deadly serious.

“Japanese,” he said again. “Say it in Japanese.”

Victor didn’t understand Japanese…

Yuuri didn’t understand. 

“Say it in Japanese if you can’t tell me,” Victor pressed gently, voice softening. Yuuri would do anything if that voice asked it of him… “Just say it. Just be honest with me...”

Yuuri’s heart was racing in his chest, mouth open but no words coming out - Japanese or otherwise. He wasn’t sure what to say, where to start, how he could-

“ _ I love you. _ ” 

He heard the words slip in his native tongue, barely more than a whisper. Across the table, Victor’s expression didn’t change. He didn’t understand.

Somehow, that loosened some of the tightness in Yuuri’s chest.

He took a deep breath… and talked. 

“ _ I’ve always looked up to you, _ ” he rambled, bracing his elbows on the table and clutching his hands together tight. “ _ I wanted you to see me. I wanted to be good for you. But I…” _ he pressed his eyes shut, feeling the all too familiar burn prick at the corners. “ _ I failed at skating and I’ll fail at this. I’m not good enough. But I know how much this means to you and I… I just didn’t want to let you down. _ ”

Saying it aloud stung. It sprung open the elastic bands crushing his ribcage but at the same time it speared needles through his heart, sharp and painful. It hurt.

_ “Since you started coaching me, I’ve started to see things differently,”  _ he went on. His knuckles were white on the table now. “ _ When I failed before, it was expected. It was me. But if I fail this time, then I fail you. You go away...” _

Yuuri forced his eyes open, his eyes meeting Victor’s.

They were watching him with an unreadable expression.

_ “For the first time, there’s somebody I want to hold onto.” _

Yuuri sucked in a deep breath, summoning his courage. He unclenched his hands on the table.

_ “You…” _

He reached across the coffees to Victor’s abandoned hand on the table top, weaving his fingers through Victor’s.

_ “I don’t really have a name for it… _ ” he tangled their fingers together, squeezing tight. He flickered his gaze up to meet Victor’s. He caught Victor’s parted lips and pink cheeks too. _ “But I’ve decided to call it love.” _

His heart squeezed in his chest, proud and ashamed at once. He wished he was brave enough to tell Victor everything in English, to face his shortcomings and fears instead of flee from them…

The thought cracked his composure, bottom lip quivering dangerously. He held Victor’s eye long enough to see the Russian’s expression crack before he fell back down to the coffee, gripping Victor’s hand too tight. He didn’t dare let go. If he let go, he couldn’t promise that he wouldn’t simply flee out of the cafe altogether.

“Yuuri…”

Yuuri didn’t move as Victor leaned forward across the table, voice soft and reverent. It made his heart skip a beat in his chest.

And he gasped as Victor’s spare hand cupped his cheek.

He leaned into the touch, squeezing his eyes shut against the wrench in his chest. “ _ That’s why I couldn’t bear to disappoint you again!” _

It felt good to say it. It hurt and he felt ugly practically crying in Victor’s palm, but he couldn’t deny the weight that lifted off his chest as he let it out - as he let it go. As he let it be. He loved Victor, and he wanted to do whatever it took to spend more time with him and see him smile.

The stakes were higher this time if he failed. It wasn’t just him that would be hurt if he screwed it up.

* * *

“This week, we’re dancing the Paso Doble,” Victor said to the cameras when they got back to the studio an hour later, the usual media smile plastered smoothly on his face. “Being in the bottom two last week definitely shook us. We don’t want to be there again-”

Yuuri put a hand on Victor’s thigh, just out of camera shot. Victor’s words choked to a stop.

Yuuri had washed his face and let Victor squeeze his hand to death on the way back to the studio, feeling a little more human than when they’d set out. He felt exhausted though, tired before they’d even begun training. 

They had to get through the media first though, deciding to get through as much of their camera interviews out of the way as soon as possible.

After all, the questions they wanted to ask wouldn’t go away.

They’d still been in the bottom last week, no matter when they’d sit down.

Yuuri felt braver than usual now though, heart light and heavy in his chest at the same time. He wasn’t sure if it was the crying. Maybe it was the confession, even if Victor hadn’t understood it. 

Whatever it was, he didn’t feel as afraid as before as his fingers pressed into Victor’s thigh and he looked up, squarely into the red light above the camera.

“We’ve got a lot to prove,” he said, steady and confident. 

He could feel Victor’s eyes widen beside him, mouth drifting open in shock. Yuuri surprised himself even, voice unusually calm. He didn’t usually talk to the cameras at all - not unless he’d already been offered what to say by the producer or he was being asked a very straightforward question. Anything more complicated, Victor took over.

It wasn’t like him at all.

A flicker of last week’s confidence bolted through him at the thought. Victor always said to surprise them… 

“So,” Yuuri nodded - as much to himself as anyone else. “This week, I’m going to give it my all.”

Because he would.

He really, really would.

Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Victor smile.

* * *

Yuuri didn’t utter a word of complaint as he and Victor ran through basics for the camera crew, drilling the same loud stamps against the wooden studio floor and the high prancing steps on the balls of their feet. They threw a few sharp snaps at the mirror in hold, Yuuri forcing himself to stand tall and proud as per the dance’s character. 

He hadn’t been given any further instructions, nothing more specific. Maybe Victor was saving it for private, Yuuri figured, wanting to keep it a surprise. 

He hadn’t prepared himself for the actual reason though.

“I haven’t finished the routine yet,” Victor quietly admitted once the camera crew had finally left, a dash of red splashing across the bridge of his nose. “After last weekend, I just …” His eyes flickered down to the floor, colour darkening on his face. “I wasn’t in the right headspace for dancing.”

Yuuri just stared, stomach curling in horror. What little bravery he’d had for the cameras he felt evaporating by the second, cold swathing over his skin.

It was his fault.

Victor lifted his head up suddenly though, blinking too fast and a stiff smile pressed on his face. “It’s okay,” he said, voice betraying that it was very much  _ not _ okay. “I don’t usually fully finish the routines until Monday nights anyway.”

Yuuri’s mouth opened and closed around nothing for a few minutes, brain scrambling for words.

“Is…” his tongue darted out to wet his dry lips. “Is that why we usually do just basics on the first day?”

Suddenly, it made a lot of sense. Yuuri had always figured the basic-heavy start to their weeks was to drill in the easy stuff, get in the right headspace for the dance, perfect the feel and stance of the dance… he’d never imagined it would be because there wasn’t even a full routine of choreography for him to learn yet.

Victor shrugged. 

“I didn’t know that I’d be the professional when I started the show,” he said. “I didn’t have any routines planned like the others did...”

_ Of course _ , the dots suddenly clicked in Yuuri’s head.

Victor had joined as a celebrity, had come to be taught and given choreography already made for him. When he switched sides, suddenly he was the choreographer too - only he hadn’t had the months of preparation like the other professionals had. They would have had routines planned before they’d even been matched with a partner.

And Victor had to make do with whatever he could scramble together on a week to week basis. 

Yuuri wondered how long Victor stayed up on Sunday nights learning the essential components for the next week, scouring music and working on figures to throw into their routine. How late did he stay behind in the studio on Mondays after Yuuri had already packed up and gone home without a thought? He wasn’t a professional dancer, he was a skater. He must have had to put so much work in just for them to have  _ something _ to dance to on Saturdays, scores or not.

Suddenly, Yuuri felt guilty. He’d never even spared a thought for Victor’s work. He’d always assumed he was the one with the struggle, that Victor just flounced in flawless and talented...

In reality, Victor worked harder than anybody else in the show.

He looked embarrassed now though as Yuuri stared at him, slack jawed and helpless. He’d always been amazed by Victor before, but now Yuuri’s heart had never beat harder for him.

“I, um,” Victor flashed him a sheepish smile. His slightly watery eyes betrayed him though. “I don’t actually know what I’m doing.”

Yuuri really did love Victor.

In that moment, he wanted nothing more than to close the gap between them and kiss Victor until he was crying and flushed for a whole  _ different _ reason. He wanted to run his hands through his silky hair. He wanted to cradle the back of Victor’s head as he stole the breath off his lips. He wanted to feel Victor’s fingers press into his arms as Yuuri held him for all he was worth and whispered ‘ _ me too’ _ , that they were both stumbling through it together.

That was what he  _ wanted  _ to do. 

In reality though, Yuuri didn’t move - he just stared, bug-eyed and numb, hypnotised by the sparkle glittering on Victor’s eyelashes. 

Victor delicately swiped a hand under his eyes. “All I know is that I don’t want it to stop.”

Yuuri’s heart gave a traitorous thud at that.

“Me neither,” he breathed.

* * *

Yuuri would be lying if he said that he didn’t notice the sun sinking in the window outside, but he forced himself to ignore it. He’d drilled his basics, Victor had shown the choreography that he’d pulled together, and Yuuri’s body was ready to go home and rest… but Victor wouldn’t be going home, and he couldn’t leave him to do it alone.

At least the music had been picked out. That alone helped knock something off of the list of things that they had to do! It helped Yuuri visualise the dance more, understand the feel they were aiming for.

He stood back at the side of the room, watching Victor run through the routine for a countless time.

They’d filled in some of the gaps. 

Yuuri had a feeling that this dance was going to be harder than usual because it was more of a performance than a dance. It wasn’t just dancing. It was acting, something Yuuri had never considered his strong suits. And the requirements, while less of them, they were more ridiculous.

“Do we  _ really _ have to use a cape?”

Yuuri nearly hadn’t believed Victor when he’d pulled the cape out of his bag and had started brandishing it around at the start of the routine, clumsy and unpolished. 

The scowl Victor shot him wasn’t impressed either. 

“I told you,” he said, cape falling limp around him and shoulders slumping. The music played on but Victor stayed still. “It’s an essential element.”

“A prop?”

A small grunt was all he got in response. 

The studio was really making fools out of them for this dance. Apparently, for once they had actually had an influence over their costumes that week too - the men to be in a matador jacket and the women with long split skirts. Yuuri wasn’t looking forward to the jacket, just imagining how tight it would be over his shoulders. A lot of the men would be expected to strip them during the dance or skip wearing a shirt underneath, but the idea of either of those options made Yuuri’s skin crawl. He didn’t want to be exposed like that.

“Yuuri?”

Yuuri glanced up, realising that Victor was frowning at him.

“Are you okay?” Victor asked.

It was only then that Yuuri realised his arms were wrapped tight across his middle, hugging around his torso. His potentially future exposed torso…

“It’s just…” Yuuri’s cheeks grew hot just thinking about it. “The costumes…” 

“Oh.”

He was sure Victor didn’t share the same worries as him. He’d seen Victor’s body during the costume fittings - lean, and trim, and honestly Yuuri had probably looked just a bit too long to be normal, but he hadn’t been able to help himself. He remembered the feel of those firm abs that had pressed against him in the storage closet at his office. Victor had nothing to worry about.

Yuuri wasn’t the same. He wasn’t out of shape by any stretch - especially since he’d started dance training so much with Victor ... but he wasn’t Victor. He didn’t have Victor’s confidence.

Gentle hands prised his wrists down from his front though, Yuuri blinking up to Victor’s bright blue eyes. 

_ “Yuuuuuuuri.” _

Yuuri’s heart skipped a traitorous beat at the way Victor dragged out the vowels of his name. The sparkle in his eyes didn’t help.

“You have nothing to worry about, solnyshko,” he said, voice impossibly smooth and thumbs stroking sweetly over the backs of Yuuri’s wrists. It made Yuuri’s stomach flip embarrassingly. “You look beautiful.”

Yuuri’s eyes popped wide, cheeks flooding red. He didn’t pull away though, didn’t stop staring.

He didn’t agree though.

* * *

Yuuri was still thinking about the shirt issue when he trudged into the studio the next day, tired from countless nightmares about splitting the seams of his costume on shownight keeping him up the night before. It had scared him into doing a few rounds of crunches before he’d set out that morning, but he knew it wouldn’t be enough. There wasn’t a workout in the world that could shred him in five days!

A part of him knew that it was stupid. It wasn’t like he hadn’t worn form fitting costumes before on the show!

But this was different.

Even if he was allowed to keep a shirt beneath his jacket, the jacket would still have to come off at some point, drawing attention to him. People would be  _ looking _ this time. 

Yuuri’s shoulders were slumped in defeat before he’d even changed his shoes. He was going to make a fool of them and it wouldn’t even have anything to do with his dancing.

He forced it to the back of his mind though as they got back to cracking on with the choreography, tiny sections still needing some tweaking where Victor wasn’t happy with them. It wasn’t just Victor. Yuuri could feel it too. It didn’t flow right, something missing…

Victor groaned as he stepped out of the dance, dropping Yuuri’s hands and running his own through his hair. He didn’t bother stopping the music.

“It’s not right,” he complained aloud, head tipped up to the ceiling and expression tight with frustration. “If this was skating, I’d put a jump there or something-”

“Do it.”

Victor paused, hands dropping away from his hair. He was frowning as he looked back at Yuuri. “What?”

Inside, Yuuri was frowning too. He hadn’t meant to say anything, happy to let Victor work through his process and fill in the gap. He’d come up with something way better than Yuuri ever could after all! 

...so why was he still talking?

“Jump,” Yuuri heard himself clarify, his voice surprisingly calm. “I’ll jump. You throw.”

The instant he said it though, he knew it was right.

If Victor wanted him to jump, he would jump. Victor had choreographed himself to countless gold medals in his skating career - he knew what he was doing. If the routine needed a jump, Yuuri would do it. He trusted Victor’s instinct.

He’d do anything to win.

Victor was still staring at him though. “You …want me to  _ throw  _ you?”

_ It would be fine _ , Yuuri told himself. He could leap through the air on ice - surely, he could do it on flat ground too! Just like with everything, he could practice. He could practice and practise until he was everything that Victor needed him to be to bring his vision to life.

Somehow, he couldn’t bring himself to say any of that aloud though. A lump lodged in his throat, but he nodded more to himself than anything else.

He could do it.

For a moment, Victor didn’t say anything. Then-

“What about in heels?”

_ That  _ surprised Yuuri.

“What?!” his head shot up to Victor, confusion splattered all over his face.

Victor didn’t look confused though. Instead, he had his arms folded across his chest, brow furrowed in thought, and gaze sharp with concentration. Yuuri could see it in Victor’s eyes - he was playing it all out in his head, the routine, the move - everything! 

“There might be a way to get you out of the jacket situation,” Victor said, eyes still faraway in thought.

Yuuri sucked in a sharp breath.

Victor had  _ remembered _ .

He knew Victor cared, but he also knew that Victor didn’t always listen. Not  _ really. _ Especially when he was dancing. Especially when it was all otherwise going well and it was so easy for him to get carried away. Yuuri hadn’t expected him to really remember his worries about the costume. He’d kind of figured that Victor had comforted him, but essentially moved on…

“What if you wore the women’s costume?” Victor said, blinking a little more focus back into his eyes as they found Yuuri’s. “Most of those will be leggings and long skirts so they’ll be a lot more modest compared to the men. Would that make you feel more comfortable?”

Yuuri nearly said no. 

It was on the tip of his tongue the second that Victor had said  _ skirt _ , the idea just so unexpected that he didn’t know what else to say. 

Until he caught himself, and really  _ thought _ about it. 

Victor was right. He wouldn’t have to take any shirt off or undress in any way. He’d still be sticking with the costume rules of the dance  _ technically. _ He could dance in comfort with a dramatic skirt instead of a ridiculous cape.

And he’d surprise everybody...

“Yes,” he said after a moment, no trace of regret in his voice. The moment he said it, it felt right. “Yes, it would.”

It was a weight off his shoulders, feeling lighter as he looked up to meet Victor’s eye. To his surprise, Victor was beaming. He looked delighted. It made Yuuri’s stomach do flips.

“W-would you be okay with that though?” Yuuri had to ask, feeling his face heat up under Victor’s gaze. “Dancing with a man in a dress?”

Everyone was judging Victor through him. His look, his dancing - it all came back to Victor and Victor was the one who had to bear the ultimate consequences of anything they did. If they failed, he’d be on a plane back to Russia. It would be over.

He didn’t look worried though as he closed the gap between them, a hand coming up to cup Yuuri’s face.

“Yuuri,” he smiled, too pretty to be fair. “I just want you to be comfortable. You can’t be confident if you’re not comfortable.”

_ True _ , Yuuri agreed in his head.

He would be able to concentrate on the dance a lot more when he didn’t have to worry about his gut hanging out for the world to see...

“If you’re dancing in the woman’s costume though,” Victor went on, hand falling away and turning to jam the lingering music to a sudden stop with the remote. “They’ll probably expect you to wear heels rather than mens flats.” Victor glanced back over his shoulder, sunlight from the window glittering off his porcelain skin. He looked so angelic, Yuuri almost missed what he said. “Do you think you’d be able to dance in those?”

Yuuri hoped Victor didn’t notice the way Yuuri suddenly blinked, forcing himself to concentrate instead of mindlessly staring-

“S-sure,” he stammered, face flaming. He cleared his throat awkwardly. “I mean, I’ve danced in heels before.”

Victor went white. “Y-you have?” 

“Sort of,” Yuuri said, avoiding Victor’s eye as he felt heat creep down the back of his neck. “I took some pole dancing classes once. We wore heels for fun sometimes...”

Yuuri swore he caught Victor’s eyes flicker up to the ceiling and his lips mutter something akin to a prayer before he turned away to restart the music.

* * *

Jump in place - albeit, still a little shaky - and Yuuri quickly getting used to dancing in heels a good few inches higher than usual, Yuuri turned his attention to the next thing they’d have to think about.

“What’s the story?” he asked.

“Hm?”

Victor glanced up from his phone, one hand still on his cocked out hip and blinking blankly at Yuuri. They’d been on a break, taking a breather now that the routine was finalised.

Yuuri had been dancing with Victor long enough to know that it wasn’t just the dancing that made the routine though.

“The story,” he said again. “You always have a story.”

There was no such thing as just a dance with Victor. Even when he’d skated, it always  _ meant _ something. He always told a story, always made it beautiful and unforgettable because of that…

Until now, it seemed.

“Um…” Victor glanced up to the ceiling, pinching his chin between his thumb and forefinger. After a minute though, his eyes dropped back to Yuuri. “What do you think?”

Yuuri knew that look - open, but guarded. He wasn’t giving everything away. Yuuri knew Victor was thinking carefully behind those eyes, analysing his every move like he knew Victor did. Victor wasn’t stupid. He hadn’t gotten so far in his life by being so naive. It wasn’t a straightforward question that he was asking, and Yuuri knew it.

That was why he paused, heartbeat picking up in his chest. He felt his face heat up. “Um-”

He scrambled for something. 

“P-passion, right?” he all but asked, voice barely more than a whisper. He wondered if Victor could hear how hard his heart was beating…

He tried to think about the music. Passionate, aggressive… not loving, but definitely not devoid of emotion. It wasn’t quite hate - at least, not the way they danced it. The routine moved in a push and pull, like the draw of the romantic quickstep, but rougher.  _ Harsher _ . What would someone be feeling dancing in Yuuri’s shoes, dancing with someone like Victor?

His head drooped as he thought, scrambling for words. His eyes settled on Victor’s hand, dropped back down to his side as he waited.

Yuuri’s fingers twitched of their own accord.

“I think…” Yuuri’s tongue darted out, wetting his lips. “S-she loves him… she wants him, but he’s dangerous.” His hand reached out before he could stop it, snaking forward to loosely tangle with Victor’s fingers. They were warm. Yuuri’s heart did flips in his chest, throat tightening. “She’s scared to trust him.”

Victor’s breath hitched. “Why?”

Yuuri itched to know what kind of expression Victor paired with that rough voice but he wasn’t brave enough to look up. Instead, he just watched Victor’s chest, the rise and fall that was just a little faster than normal.

He felt his own start to match it. “Because ... he could hurt her.”

Fingers gently squeezed back against his.

They could so easily shatter him. It wouldn’t take much for Victor to ruin him, to break his heart… but it was  _ Victor _ , and Yuuri simply couldn’t say no.

He flickered his gaze up at last, heart in his mouth. “What about him?”

He wasn’t disappointed. Bright blue eyes watched him - softened compared to earlier - and framed with the prettiest pink across the bridge of Victor’s nose that Yuuri had ever seen. Victor’s lips were parted ever so slightly, a tantalising tease as Yuuri waited for his answer.

If he had to step out on a limb, so did Victor.

For a moment, Victor just stared.  _ Then- _

“He wants her,” he finally said, voice quiet. Yuuri wasn’t sure if it was him or if Victor’s eyes sparkled just a little more than before... “But he’s never felt like that before. It scares him. He’s even more scared of if she walked away and left him alone again...”

Yuuri’s heart balked in his chest. He gripped Victor’s fingers tighter. 

“So he clings onto her?” he rasped.  _ Like in the quickstep. _

Victor nodded, Adam’s apple bobbing. “Even if he knows it’s too much.”

“Because it’s better than nothing.”

_ Because it was. _

Yuuri knew it was too. Even if this show ended up with him crashing and burning, he wasn’t sure he would ever be able to regret spending those few precious weeks with Victor...a part of him was glad that Victor felt the same, both clinging to a scrap of a moment, because neither of them knew when it would be ripped away from them.

Now, they just had to dance it. 

Yuuri shook his head, a chill creeping down his spine. He shook himself out of his fantasy.

It wasn’t the quickstep anymore. It wasn’t the romantic foxtrot. It was the Paso Doble - all fire, and rage, and passion rolled up into a messy, possessive dance. Yuuri could long for Victor - but it was the bitter frustration and fury that Victor would always be slightly out of his reach that he really had to tap into.

He forced down the lump in his throat, rearranging his fingers a little more firmly around Victor’s. 

Victor’s eyes darted down to his mouth. “What makes you feel like that, Yuuri?”

_ You _ , Yuuri answered instantly in his head. He didn’t have to think about it, the answer blindingly obvious. 

The moment he opened his lips though, the sound stuck in his throat - just like in the cafe! He couldn’t say it. He couldn’t say it aloud. His mouth bobbed open and shut uselessly for a few moments, acutely aware that Victor was  _ watching _ and waiting for an answer, and-

“Katsudon,” he heard himself say.

Victor’s eyes blinked wide with surprise.

“I-I mean,” Yuuri stammered, feeling embarrassingly hot under the collar. “I-it’s so good it’s impossible to resist, but it’s also dangerous because it’s so high calorie. I never could say no when my mother made it. That’s why I have to be so careful with my weight now. It’s just… too good…”

The silence that answered him was deafening. 

Yuuri could hear the blood pounding in his ears, could feel the heat slathered over his face and creeping up at the back of his neck. No wonder Victor was staring at him! H-had he really just said-

“Okay,” Victor said slowly, his frown slowly smoothing out and eyes sharpening. With his next blink, they were deadly focussed. “We’ll make you the tastiest pork cutlet bowl.”

* * *

Wednesday morning came - and there was no text from Victor. 

_ Weird,  _ Yuuri thought. 

He went about his morning as normal though. Well, kind of normal. He jogged rather than walked, stopped off to grab himself a coffee to calm his nerves, turned his phone off halfway through to stop himself from checking it every five seconds, worried that he was missing something.

Usually, he got instructions of where to report to on Wednesdays - their trip day for the cameras. 

This week though, he’d gotten nothing.

Maybe it wasn’t until later and Victor wanted to squeeze an hour or two of practise in before they had to deal with the farce of the cameras. It was a chore. The cameras always made everything so ridiculous...

Yuuri felt a little calmer about whatever his day might entail though by the time he got to the studio and drained the last of his coffee. They’d finished the choreography. He was steadier in the heels. And after their conversation yesterday about the  _ story _ Yuuri felt a little better, less foolish, like he wasn’t just-

He froze in his tracks in the doorway of the studio, gasp fresh on his lips. His eyes popped wide.

“O-Okaa-san?!”

* * *

Of course, the cameras caught his reaction when he stepped into the studio.  _ Of course _ , they caught the way Yuuri practically dissolved into messy, uncontrollable sobs as soon as he set eyes on his family waiting for him in the studio, all ready with bright smiles, and comfort, and everything Yuuri hadn’t realised he’d been missing until it was right  _ there _ .

Victor watched on from the corner of the dance studio, a small smile playing on his lips as he watched the scene unfold.

* * *

“Last week was hard,” Victor said to the cameras once they’d stopped Yuuri crying long enough to get him to smile for ten seconds and dabbed some concealer under his eyes. “We all needed cheering up. I know how close Yuuri is to his family so I thought it would be a nice surprise for him.”

_ He was close enough to talk to his mother about him at least _ , Victor thought to himself, preening inside. Whatever Yuuri had said must have been good too, because Mrs Katsuki - or Hiroko, as she’d insisted Victor call her - absolutely adored him!

He had to admit that his heart had momentarily stopped when he saw Yuuri break down in the doorway. For a second, he’d thought he’d made a mistake - a mistake that he’d caught on camera and would inevitably use in the show - but once he saw Yuuri smiling through the tears, he breathed a sigh of relief. He hadn’t expected that reaction. He wondered when the last time Yuuri had actually seen his parents had been...

“Victor…”

Victor glanced down, still in camera mode.

It shattered as soon as he set eyes on Yuuri again. Red rimmed eyes and a tooth snagged lower lip waited for him, Yuuri’s cheeks red and blotchy.

It shouldn’t have been attractive.

But, by God, it was.

Victor damn near forgot about the cameras as Yuuri grabbed his hand and he gasped, air whistling through his lips before he could stop it. He could feel his cheeks darken, feel the way his eyes widened a traitorous fraction. It didn’t stop him squeezing Yuuri’s hand back though, for once not caring about the cameras.

Yuuri gave him a watery smile, looking like he’d break into tears again at any moment. “Thank you.”

* * *

It turned out that the Katsuki’s were perfectly delightful. Hiroko kept pinching Victor’s cheeks and even though Yuuri’s father didn’t speak a lick of English, he was still smiling and friendly towards Victor. Victor knew he’d pulled them away from their business for a few days to get them there. He hoped he hadn’t caused them too much trouble.

The only one who kept some distance was Yuuri’s sister, who spoke only briefly and even then, she hadn’t smiled. She hadn’t taken Victor’s hand when he’d offered, regarding him with raised eyebrows.

Victor had felt judged.

He guessed it was only fair though. Considering the things she’d seen them do together on TV - especially last weeks on screen meltdown - Victor guessed she was right to be wary. She was a big sister. She was looking out for her baby brother.

Victor’s heart twanged at the thought, bitterly reminded about his own lack of family back home. He only had Makkachin, and she was staying with Yakov while Victor was in America.

Honestly, he hadn’t thought he’d be there so long.

“Victor?”

Victor looked up, slapping a smile on his face. “Hm?”

Yuuri was looking at him, eyes narrowed and clashed with concern. Victor could see it, the question poised on his lips -  _ are you okay _ ? Victor hoped he wouldn’t ask it, not sure if he’d be able to battle the lump out of his throat to answer with dignity.

“Right,” Victor said, before Yuuri could. “Yuuri, we should give them a preview of our routine!”

Yuuri’s eyes flashed wide. “What?” No, no, I’m sure that’s not-”

_ Safe,  _ Victor thought to himself. 

* * *

“So,” Mari said, exhaling the smoke from her cigarette and giving her little brother the side eye. “How are you? Really?”

Yuuri slumped against the wall. 

He should have known his sister would see right through him, would see through his cracks and actually challenge him on them. Where his parents were happy to comfort him until he was ready, Mari never gave him that luxury. She knew that the time when he was ready never really came. 

Yuuri sighed, head tilting up to the sky. 

It was weird being outside in the middle of a training day. Even weirder being in the smoking section. Yuuri guessed Mari’s cigarette had half been an excuse to get him alone to talk. 

“I messed up,” he said to the clouds, feeling his heart tighten in his chest. There was no point lying to his sister.

He felt Mari’s eyes digging into him. “Not what you’d hoped he’d be like?”

Yuuri blinked fast as he shook his head, jaw clenching. He hoped Mari didn’t notice the way his eyes glittered.

“No,” he said, voice choked. “He’s better.”

Victor was nothing like Yuuri had imagined growing up. He wasn’t cool, and collected, and a playboy that slept with anything that moved because he could. He was needy, and childish, and hopelessly romantic while being hard as steel about his work. Somehow though, that only made it worse. It made him human. It made him so much easier to fall for.

Yuuri knocked his head lightly against the brick wall behind him, trying to focus on the light throb of pain rather than the sting in his eyes. 

“I like him, Mari,” he said, sounding strangled. He didn’t bother trying to bottle that one up. “I really like him.”

He was beyond screwed.

He’d always adored Victor, but this was different. It wasn’t just admiring how beautiful he was or being inspired by his music. Now, Yuuri knew the exact colour of his eyes when they lit up with happiness. Now, Yuuri knew how the laughter lines creased his face in a way he never let the cameras see. Now, Yuuri knew exactly how hard Victor worked and only loved him more for it. He didn’t love Victor like he used to - now, he  _ loved  _ him. 

He wanted to take him back to the cafe and share matcha lattes. He wanted to dance with him in his living room to Victor’s favourite songs. He wanted to hold him when he frowned and kiss him until the stress melted away.

And his heart clenched at the idea of Victor going away, chest so tight it was hard to breathe.

But it was inevitable.

Whether they did well in the show or not, one day the show would end. Victor would go back to Russia. They would never see each other again, and Yuuri knew that it would hurt more than he dared to admit when he eventually left. He never should have let himself care about Victor Nikiforov so much. He was only building himself up for his own destruction. 

“You don’t have to do this, you know,” Mari said, exhaling a puff of smoke. “You could always quit. You don’t have anything to gain from it anyway, right?”

Yuuri nodded, pressing his eyes shut.

He could quit. The money was hardly worth it and most of the celebrities did the show for publicity more than anything. Yuuri wasn’t a celebrity. His life wouldn’t change after the show regardless of how he placed, so did it really matter? Probably not. 

But it mattered a lot to Victor. 

Yuuri couldn’t quit, for his sake.

And that thought alone told Yuuri all he needed to know about how badly he’d fallen for his mentor.

“If it helps though, he’s just as hopeless as you,” Mari said, leaning against the wall beside Yuuri. “He looks at you like a lovesick little puppy.”

Yuuri’s eyes snapped open at that, cheeks going red. “T-that’s not-”

“Yuuri, even you have to see it,” his sister deadpanned, stubbing out her cigarette. “The guy’s head over heels for you.”

“M-Mari, no-”

“Yuuri, yes.”

“Hey-”

* * *

Victor didn’t remember the last time he’d smiled so much as he sat with Yuuri’s parents in the studio while Yuuri was out with his sister. At first, he’d been nervous. The lack of English could have been a huge problem and made it awkward, but it turned out the Katsuki’s cancelled that out with pure enthusiasm.

And pictures.

_ So many pictures. _

Victor beamed from ear to ear as Hiroko showed Victor endless pictures on her phone of her beloved son. She had pictures of a younger Yuuri skating, of Yuuri standing with a life size cutout of Victor and absolutely glowing about it, of Yuuri with a little toy poodle that was unmistakably a miniature version of Makkachin. Victor was having the time of his life. He wanted more. He wanted to know everything.

And then Hiroko showed him  _ more _ .

Victor had to fight the urge to grab the phone when he glimpsed a picture of Yuuri’s bedroom, moving his hand to Hiroko’s shoulder instead at the last second.

His eyes popped wide.

It was like a shrine to … well, him. 

His face was everywhere. Pictures lined the walls, there were framed photos of him on the desk, a poster on the ceiling even and an unmistakable body pillow of himself on the bed that Victor hadn’t even known existed. He couldn’t stop staring.

Yuuri wasn’t just a fan - he was  _ the  _ fan!

Victor felt his face grow hotter the longer he stared, but he couldn’t help it. He’d never been so flattered. 

For how hard he’d worked over his career, somehow seeing how much Yuuri admired - no,  _ obsessed -  _ about him made it all more worthwhile than all of his gold medals put together. It made butterflies flutter in his stomach and his heart beat faster.

He was sure that Yuuri would be horrifically embarrassed if he knew that Victor had seen. It would be so Yuuri. He’d be mortified. He’d go incredibly red and slap his hands over his face.

Victor so desperately wanted to see it. 

But he couldn’t. 

He still wasn’t sure where Yuuri’s fragile boundaries lay. After last week, Victor didn’t want to risk shattering them again just to boost his own ego.

But it was nice. It was more than nice. It rekindled a part of him that he didn’t think he still had, something warm inside his chest that still loved skating. Somehow, seeing his old pictures reminded him of it. He hadn’t always been a machine, a facade. Once, there had been life in him. It hadn’t always been an act.

_ And Yuuri had seen it. _

Right from his younger days, Victor noticed, spotting an overwhelming amount of posters and pictures from his junior days. 

His long hair winked back at him, the mischievous spark in his eyes that had driven Yakov to near insanity, the costumes that had been so ridiculous …some of them had aged better than others, Victor conceded to himself, lips tweaking in a smirk the more he spotted. Yuuri seemed to have a few more pictures of his bondage costume than the others, Victor noticed, the mesh, and crystals, and half skirt fond in his memory. He’d liked that one too. Yuuri had good taste. 

That was the kind of mood he needed to inspire in Yuuri for that week’s dance - passion, and drama, and effortlessly sexy. 

That was how Victor got an idea.

* * *

“Seeing my family this week really helped boost my confidence,” Yuuri said to the cameras at the end of the day, for the first time feeling lighthearted and happy in the middle of a training week. He didn’t care that they’d barely done any dancing that day. He was happy. “I’m ready to go out and do my best for Victor this week.”

_ Just wait, _ Victor thought to himself with a grin, his plan already in motion. He hadn’t been sure if it had been feasible, but it turned the right contacts and the right amount of money could buy pretty much anything.

Yuuri’s best was going to get even better for Saturday. Victor was absolutely sure of it.   


* * *

Unfortunately though, no matter how much influence Victor might have, he still couldn’t buy actual miracles. His plan took a few days to actually come into effect, keeping Yuuri busy with relentless practice to try and keep him distracted so he didn’t notice the change in their routine. 

Thursday went by in a blur.

Friday came around all too soon. 

Victor could barely contain his excitement as he pulled Yuuri to the wardrobe department after practise though, giddy and delighted like a little kid. He couldn’t wait to see Yuuri’s reaction. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so excited!

The costume department was relatively empty. Most of the costume alterations had been arranged the day before, so most of the seamstresses were either busy working in their workshops or up helping with adjustments in the dress rehearsal upstairs. It was unusually quiet in the actual corridors, Victor able to pull Yuuri through without hardly bumping into anyone.

“I got your parents front row seats for tomorrow, by the way,” he said on the way while he remembered, hand tight around Yuuri’s. “I thought it would be nice for them to see you.”

They had been supposed to see a demo of the dance on Wednesday with the cameras but Yuuri had been so swept up with emotion and catching up that Victor hadn’t had the heart to put him on show like that. He’d let Yuuri have his moment. But he did want the Katsuki’s to see Yuuri dance.

So he’d pulled some strings and had managed to convince them to stay until the weekend at least. He knew they couldn’t stay for long.

But he wanted Yuuri to have his family there for one week.

“O-oh…” Yuuri trailed a step behind him, tone significantly duller than Victor had expected. “That’s nice...”

Victor’s steps stuttered.

That wasn’t the reaction that he’d been hoping for…

* * *

Yuuri felt his stomach twist sickeningly as Victor slowly came to a stop in front of him, fingers slackening around his own and Victor’s head bowing low. He was avoiding Yuuri’s eye. Avoiding Yuuri. It only made Yuuri feel worse.

Victor’s shoulders tensed. “What’s wrong?”

He sounded disappointed, Yuuri couldn’t stop the little voice in his head from thinking, heart skipping a beat in his chest. He didn’t want to disappoint him. 

Yuuri tightened his grip on Victor’s slackened fingers, gathering his courage. In reality though, he felt tiny, heart quaking in his chest.

“What if…” he could barely bring himself to say it, voice quiet. “What if I let you down again?”

He couldn’t help thinking it.

Every day, it got worse. Every day he learned something new about Victor and it only made him fall for him more, made the stakes higher. Last week, Yuuri had felt the pressure. This week, Victor had flown his parents over for him, been impossibly sweet, and charming, and oh-so human… and Yuuri so desperately wanted to live up to his kindness, to do him justice.

But really, they hadn’t done enough practice. Their routine wasn’t as technical as it probably should be. They could just be building up to make a spectacle of themselves with Yuuri in a skirt, no matter how good the dancing was.

Yuuri didn’t realise he’d spilled the last parts out aloud - not until he looked up and saw that Victor had turned around at last, his eyes level and serious.

They made Yuuri’s breath hitch. 

Victor’s hand rearranged around Yuuri, fingers interlacing together. It was solid, intimate.

“Yuuri, I don’t care about the scores,” he said, deadly serious. Something unnamable gleamed determined in his eyes. “I don’t care about the TV, or the judges, or the studio. I just want to dance with you.”

A part of Yuuri instantly wanted to dismiss it, to argue. Victor was a past athlete and this was a competition -  _ of course _ , he would care about scores, about the judges, about doing well… but then, their routine wasn’t fighting for top technicality scores. They hadn’t for a few weeks, the more Yuuri thought about it actually…

_ The story,  _ he reminded himself. Victor spoke through the dance the way he had in his skating. Victor came alive on the dancefloor, his song choice, his movements, his flow - always saying something that couldn’t be put into words.

What did Victor want to say this week?

Yuuri remembered when they’d discussed it earlier. He remembered what Victor had said. 

_ “He wants her.” _

_ ‘Like a lovesick puppy’ _ was how Mari had put it. The reminder made Yuuri’s breath hitch, heart beating fast in his chest. 

A soft smile cracked through Victor’s serious expression in front of him though, pulling him back to the present. “Do you want to dance with me, Yuuri?”

Yuuri didn’t even have to think about the answer. 

“Yes,” he breathed in an instant. 

Victor’s smile stretched wider. “Good,” he sighed, turning back to keep pulling Yuuri down the corridor. “Because I have a surprise for you.”

Yuuri didn’t say anything more, letting himself be guided through the wardrobe department, Victor clearly knowing where he was going. They were a day behind for their costume fittings. Yuuri would be lying if he said that he wasn’t nervous about the dress, but he knew he’d still take it over the ridiculously sexy men’s outfits. He wondered how he would feel in a skirt. Would it be heavy? Would it be annoying? He wasn’t sure, waiting while Victor unzipped the garment bag that had been pulled around the mannequin, and-

Yuuri gasped, hands slapping over his mouth. Over his fingertips, his eyes glittered. “T-that’s-”

He knew exactly what it was.

It wasn’t a dress - not really. It was a skating costume, but not just any skating costume -  _ Victor’s skating costume!  _

Yuuri stared, eyes raking over it greedily. It didn’t look like a cheap replica either - Yuuri would know, spending endless teenage hours fantasising over that costume! It looked almost perfect to the original. Black mesh and crystals led a teasing path down the torso, wrapping around the waist where they met a crimson undersided skirt flowing from one hip. Yuuri knew the skirt was exaggerated. The original had been short, but this skirt flowed all the way down to the ankles.

“I had the skirt lengthened for the dance,” Victor said casually beside him, freeing Yuuri’s hand to cross his arms over his chest. Too casually - like he was totally oblivious to the fact that Yuuri’s dreams were coming true before his very eyes! “Do you like it?”

_ Like it?!  _ Yuuri mentally screamed, heart aching in his chest so hard it hurt. He wanted to touch it. He wanted to reach out and stroke his fingertips over the fabric that Victor had skated in his Junior days, but he didn’t dare. It was too good to be true - like if he touched it, the whole thing would shatter and Yuuri would wake up any minute in his bed in a cold sweat.

Yuuri felt all his years of teenage longing staring back at him from that costume, the sultry black mesh and enticing crystals just as beguiling as the first time Yuuri had seen it.

“I had my costume altered to match yours,” Victor went on, not waiting for Yuuri’s answer. “It should look good.”

Yuuri wouldn’t survive Saturday. 

“I-is it here?” he asked, sweeping his eyes around the rest of the room for more traces of mesh and crystal. The other mannequins were bare though, no trace of Victor’s costume out in the open.

Victor chuckled quietly to himself.

“I think we should save the reveal for Saturday,” he said when Yuuri caught his eye, placing a teasing finger over his lips. “It makes it a little more exciting then, don’t you think?”

_ Yes _ , Yuuri answered in his head, molten  _ want  _ swirling in his gut. He didn’t dare answer aloud, not trusting his voice to hold.

He wanted to kiss Victor. 

He wanted to kiss Victor so badly in that moment, to crush their mouths together and kiss him senseless until his lips were red and swollen and Victor was gasping. He  _ wanted.  _ He wanted everything...

… but that  _ want  _ was exactly the feeling he needed to hold onto for the dance, he knew. That frustration - bordering on maddening - wrapped in desire in a mess of heady, desperate emotions. Yuuri’s heart felt so full, it felt like it would burst. It wasn’t fair.

He wanted Victor to feel like that too. 

* * *

He text Victor to meet him at the rink.

It was late and short notice, but Yuuri had gone back to his apartment and his heart still hadn’t calmed down from the costume reveal from earlier, still pounding ridiculously in his chest. Did Victor know just how much that costume meant to Yuuri? After last week? After  _ everything? _

Probably not.

Yuuri wanted to show him.

And maybe - just maybe! - he could make Victor feel it too.

Yuuri got to the rink early, skating lazy laps around the ice to try and dissipate his nerves. He had butterflies in his stomach, fingers flexing nervously at his sides the longer the silence ticked on. 

Perhaps it hadn’t been a good idea. He might just embarrass himself in front of Victor, make him lose the little faith he had left in him, or-

“Yuuri?”

Yuuri looked up, and Victor was right there.

He stood at the rink side, hands in his pockets, and looking strangely casual in sweatpants and a long sleeved t-shirt. It looks soft.  _ He  _ looked soft, eyes round and glistening and lips delicately parted. It made the breath catch in Yuuri’s throat, heart skipping a beat. 

For a moment, they both just stared. 

Victor was impossibly beautiful, and Yuuri couldn’t tear his eyes away from him. And Victor…  _ was probably wondering why he had been summoned to the rink so late _ , Yuuri filled in in his head.

_ Right. _

“Watch me, Victor,” he breathed, voice low and rasping. His heart was already racing - how was he possibly going to skate?

Victor blinked, flushing pink. “Always.”

He already looked wrecked.

It gave Yuuri a small snatch of courage as he took to the middle of the rink, taking his starting position. He knew Victor was watching. He could  _ feel  _ his eyes on him.

So he skated. 

There was no music. Yuuri could hear the melody as clear as day in his head and he was certain that Victor would be able to too. They didn’t need it aloud. They knew. They could feel it.

Yuuri let himself get lost in the tune in his head as he skated, letting his mind run clear and his body take over on instinct. He knew it wasn’t perfect, knew the jumps were downgraded, but it didn’t matter - the longing in his body mattered, the absolute reverence in his reaching fingertips, the breathless expression on his face. He felt it, a lifetime of longing tangling into that one routine.

_ Victor’s  _ routine.

He wanted Victor to feel it too, to know that he was more than just the perfect skater the world perceived him to be. To Yuuri, he was  _ everything _ .

Yuuri had grown up more than just looking up to him. He’d chased skating because of Victor. He’d left his small hometown because of Victor. He’d dared to dream, and push himself, and challenge himself past his own anxieties to try and be better - all chasing Victor, inspired by Victor. He wouldn’t be himself without Victor in his life, even before he’d met the man behind the legend.

Yuuri knew what Stammi Vicino said, but he’d never fully understood it. Not until that day. Not until he’d  _ felt  _ Victor skate it in a way he’d never seen before and seen the truth behind the facade. 

_ You don’t have to be alone, _ Yuuri wanted to say as he moved over the ice, letting it breathe through his body in every way he knew how. 

Yuuri wanted to answer his call.

Sweat was running down his face as he reached out, finding Victor still watching at the boards. Yuuri didn’t dare linger on his expression, focusing on his own instead, on the flow of his arms, the elegant curve of his blades. He wanted Victor to  _ see _ \-  _ really see!  _ He had to understand how Yuuri saw him.

Yuuri’s heart was damn near beating out of his chest as he threw himself into the final spins, not caring that they were a little wild, not caring that they were a little clumsy. They were raw, and real - and that was what Victor would see.

As Yuuri’s silent tune in his head finally ran quiet - head tilted to the ceiling in his final pose - he was heaving for breath.

He didn’t move.

He stared at the ceiling, listening to the blood pound in his ears and his breaths rasp. He mapped out the beams in the rink’s scaffolding above, tracing the lights, the cameras, the beams… 

His arms shook as he brought them back to his sides, head lowering. His eyes dropped to the criss-cross marks in the ice below.

It wasn’t very Paso Doble, what he’d just done. It wasn’t frustrated or sexually passionate like the dance was going to be, but it was full of emotion all the same. It made Yuuri’s heart ache like it was going to burst out of his chest, longing and desire curling inside him so desperately it hurt. Yuuri surrendered to it, embracing it.

He just hoped that Victor felt it too...

He hardly dared look up as the silence stretched on, terrified of what he would find waiting for him at the boards.

But he couldn’t put it off forever.

Sweat blinked off his eyelashes as he turned back to the boards, heart in his mouth. What would Victor think? Would he be impressed? Embarrassed? Ashamed? It was his prized routine after all. It might not be seen as the compliment that Yuuri had intended…

Yuuri’s breath caught when he saw though - glittering eyes waited for him off the ice, silent tears tracking down Victor’s cheeks.

“That,” Victor said after a moment, his voice horse. He made no move to wipe his face, flush climbing from his cheeks across the delicate bridge of his nose. “Dance like that tomorrow.”

_ For you _ , Yuuri answered in his heart.

* * *

Yuuri’s nerves hit him again on Saturday the second that he stepped out of Wardrobe and eyes lingered. He could feel people staring. No doubt they were wondering why he was in a skirt instead of the standard matador jacket that all the other men were wearing backstage. The heels didn’t help. Yuuri knew he was a sight. 

But the thing was … it looked good.

Yuuri had caught himself in the mirror, and gasped.

He’d looked beautiful.

The black looked almost iridescent on his skin, mesh leading a tantalizing path down his torso and christened with the sparkling crystals. The heels pushed his hips out as he walked, skirt only accentuating the fact even more. He felt good. He felt powerful. He felt  _ beautiful _ .

And then he saw Victor and something molten curled in his stomach.

He saw what Victor meant by having his costume match Yuuri’s. The jacket was scarlet lined like Yuuri’s skirt, crystals adorning the front like Yuuri, and underneath… underneath could barely be called a shirt at all. See through mesh criss crossed over Victor’s torso, teasingly see-through and seductive. 

Yuuri felt his breath catch as his eyes wandered, following the lines of mesh down Victor’s sculpted chest and clean cut abs. A smatter of tiny crystals guided him.

Yuuri felt his mouth water. 

He didn’t want to dance anymore. He wanted to pull Victor in the nearest closet and bring back that same flush on his face from the rink, to twist his hands in those perfectly styled bangs, to mark that flawless skin-

“Yuuri…”

A slow smile melted over Victor’s lips as he raked his eyes up and down Yuuri, voice deep and thick. It made Yuuri’s stomach flip.

Yet despite that, there was still a delicate glitter in Victor’s dark eyes, something unspeakably fragile poised atop of the desire. Yuuri recognised it from the rink, heart thumping traitorously in his chest.

And then it plummeted.

Reality set in.

They were about to dance. They were about to face the world that Yuuri had crumbled in front of last week, ruined by his terror. Even now - standing in Victor’s clothes with Victor’s eyes on him - Yuuri felt that same fear run cold down his spine again, feeling the colour drain from his face again.

If he screwed it up, it was all over. Victor would go back to Russia. Yuuri would never see him again. It would be over…

He gasped at the thought, hands slapping over his mouth.

He could feel his panic was written all over his face. Victor must be able to see every morsel of it, would be able to see just how weak he really was, that last week was going to happen all over-

Victor’s expression didn’t change.

If he noticed Yuuri’s panic, he didn’t show it, his gaze just as firm and steady as ever. Somehow, that helped.

Yuuri swallowed down the lump in his throat, forcing himself to stand a little bit straighter. He could do it. It was just two minutes. Two minutes, and it would end. In one way or another, they would move on, whatever happened. The thought was strangely sobering, resolve hardening in Yuuri’s heart. 

He had to try.

“U-um,” he tripped over his own tongue, needing to break the silence. He might not get another chance. “I’m going to become a super tasty pork cutlet bowl, so... please watch me!”

It was a stupid analogy. Yuuri regretted ever bringing it up, but it was the only way he was brave enough to ask for Victor’s attention. He wanted Victor to watch him, to feel his eyes on him - even if it was for one last time! He didn’t want to go out. But if he did, he wanted Victor to watch him dance just once more.

Victor’s eyes glowed in front of him.

And Yuuri snapped. 

He stepped forward, arms sliding around Victor’s shoulders and pulling him in close, revelling in the warmth seeping through the mesh of Victor’s shirt. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever get to feel it again after the dance...

“Promise!” He clung tight.

Victor’s arms didn’t hug back. He just stood there, calm and relaxed under Yuuri’s hold. Yuuri had expected him to tense up, to gasp - he didn’t. 

Victor just stood there, accepting Yuuri’s embrace.

“Of course,” he finally said, voice calm and deadly serious. “I love pork cutlet bowls.”

Yuuri’s eyes glittered over Victor’s shoulder. He clung to him even tighter.

* * *

_ “Dancing the paso doble, Victor Nikiforov and his partner, Yuuri Katsuki.” _

Yuuri’s heart hammered as they were announced, the voice echoing through the silence. He held his breath where he waited in the shadows, off floor, just out of the camera’s reach.

Victor stood boldly in the middle of the ballroom as the singer’s voice strung up, commanding attention. He ripped his cape from his shoulders.

_ “Oh-oh-oh-oh-oh! Oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh! _

_ Caught in a bad romance,” _

The cape danced through the air.

Only Victor could make cape twirling look elegant as he stepped forward with slow, deliberate strides to the building music, Yuuri hypnotised by the flow of black and crimson around Victor’s strong shoulders. He couldn’t see his face - but he could damn well imagine it. He bet Victor’s eyes were alive, burning and fierce enough to melt.

It gave Yuuri a surge of confidence as his cue came up, itching to see it.

_ “Oh-oh-oh-oh-oh! Oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh! _

_ Caught in a bad romance,” _

Yuuri stepped out into the lights.

He felt his pulse jump with every drowned out click of his heels, feeling eyes snap to him as he crossed the floor. His skirt billowed dramatically behind him, caught in the flow of his step. He felt bold. He felt powerful.

And as he crossed in front of Victor - drawing a tempting finger across the Russian’s barely there shirt - he felt Victor’s eyes watch his every move.

_ It wasn’t enough. _

As the beat jumped, Yuuri turned and snatched Victor’s cape out of his hand.

_ “Rah rah ah-ah-ah! _

_ Ro mah ro-mah-mah,” _

Yuuri held Victor’s eye as he backed away, lips curled in a smirk and eyes glinting. It wasn’t all a show. Real excitement hummed through his veins as Victor shrugged off his jacket and pursued, taking up Yuuri’s challenge with a spark in his eye of his own. 

The game was on.

_ “Gaga oh-la-la!” _

Victor’s hand caught Yuuri’s arm, halting him in his tracks. Their eyes met, molten and mesmerising.

_ “Want your bad romance,” _

Yuuri ducked under Victor’s arm, throwing the cape away across the floor as he spun to meet Victor’s hands. His head tilted to look over Victor’s shoulder, body angled ever so slightly against the Russian’s. He could still feel Victor’s gaze flicker though, tempted.

_ “I want your ugly _

_ I want your disease,” _

_ High, high, high _ \-  _ stamp! High, high high - stamp!  _ Yuuri repeated the mantra to himself as he and Victor marched on the spot, poised high on the balls of his feet until his heel stamped down on the last beats.

He didn’t dare hold back. Everything about him inside hated the idea of the stamps, hated the noise and attention…

...but for  _ Victor’s  _ attention…

He’d do anything.

_ “I want your everything _

_ As long as it's free,” _

Yuuri heel stepped around Victor, jumping and twisting to Victor’s other side. He landed silently, still in hold, still poised.

_ “I want your love,” _

Victor’s hands strayed, slipping around Yuuri’s waist and winding teasingly up his back. Yuuri didn’t bother trying to hide the way his breath hitched.

_ Caught. _

_ “Love-love-love _

_ I want your love,” _

Yuuri leaned back in Victor’s hold, feeling the warmth of his palms through the mesh of his dress. His eyelashes fluttered, putty in Victor’s hands as his back arched round in a leisurely circle. 

But he couldn’t let Victor win so easily. He had to show him more of what he could do before the dance was over.

Yuuri snapped upright, taking Victor’s hands again.

_ “I want your drama _

_ The touch of your hand,” _

Victor’s fingers were tight around Yuuri’s as they both stepped to the side, both tall on the balls of their feet, challenging each other. Their eyes locked, refusing to back down.

_ “I want your leather studded kiss in the sand,” _

Yuuri’s heart skipped a beat as he ripped his eyes away from Victor’s and their stances dropped, next side steps low and back legs dragging behind them. 

_ Remember to point,  _ Victor’s voice reminded in Yuuri’s head, foot pointing on instinct.

_ “I want your love, _

_ Love-love-love, I want your love,”  _

Yuuri made sure to push his hip out as he pulled back from Victor, arm arching high behind him in a dramatic pose. Victor still held one hand though, pulling Yuuri back step by step.

Yuuri kept his chin high, his lips delicately parted.  _ Look at me _ , he wanted to say.  _ I’m the most beautiful one here. Look at me. _

_ “You know that I want you _

_ And you know that I need you,” _

The next time Victor pulled him back, Yuuri’s hand arched down from above, fingers dragging lightly down the side of his face. His fingertips snagged his lower lip, catching Victor’s eye flicker down to it.

_ “I want it bad _

_ Your bad romance,” _

Yuuri saw it in Victor’s eyes the moment he snapped - and then he felt it in the grip around his fingers and the breath stolen from his lungs as Victor swept him across the floor. His chest swelled against Victor’s with every breath, solid, reliable, perfect -  _ his _ .

_ “I want your love and _

_ I want your revenge, _

_ You and me could write a bad romance,” _

Yuuri felt the music with every heartbeat, letting it wash over him. He was the most beautiful. He had Victor’s wicked eyes on him, reeling him in the way nobody else could.

Vaguely, Yuuri remembered that his parents were somewhere in the audience, watching him dance first hand. He should be embarrassed at them seeing him like this. Somehow, he wasn’t though. It didn’t matter. None of it mattered. Only Victor - only  _ his _ eyes mattered in that moment as Yuuri’s blood pulsed to the music like a lifeline.

_ “I want your love and _

_ All your lovers revenge, _

_ You and me could write a bad romance,” _

Keeping his head high was the main thing running through Yuuri’s head as he broke away from Victor, steps crossing over and arms whirling around him in dramatic, elegant sweeps. So often, he looked down. Now though, he had no reason to be ashamed.

_ “Oh-oh-oh-oh-oh! Oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh! _

_ Caught in a bad romance,” _

When Yuuri caught Victor’s hand again, it was like a live wire had connected. Their bodies stayed further apart than Yuuri would have liked as they moved up the ballroom in long, graceful strides, but it was fine because he had Victor’s hand, tangling their fingers together with every scrap of desperate passion he had like he couldn’t bear to let go.

_ “Oh-oh-oh-oh-ooh! Oh-oh-ooh-oh-oh-oh! _

_ Caught in a bad romance,” _

Victor span Yuuri under his arm, Yuuri twisting in his grip as arms wrapped around him, caging him in. He wasn’t a bird to be trapped.

He was a beauty to be watched. 

_ “Walk, walk fashion baby, work it move that bitch crazy,” _

Yuuri’s hands settled on his hips, head held high. He strutted to the music, walking in bold, confident strides along the edge of the ballroom, hips swaying with every step. 

On the other side of the floor, Victor followed him, his gaze locked on Yuuri. Yuuri’s lips tweaked in satisfaction.

He arched his path, moving towards the middle of the floor. Victor followed, Yuuri twisting to watch him go as their paths crossed. He pushed out a harsh breath as he watched the muscles of Victor’s back move beneath the very see-through mesh of his shirt.

_ “Walk-walk passion baby, work it I'm a free bitch baby,” _

When they were both at opposite ends of the ballroom, the both stopped, sucking in a breath to the tantalizing slower drag of the music.

Yuuri arched his arms above his head.

_ “I want your love _

_ And I want your revenge,” _

He stepped forward with steps that felt ridiculous - his knee raising high and leg straightening before it was lowered back to the floor - but that had Victor assured him were elegant and graceful.

_ “I want your love _

_ I don't wanna be friends,” _

Victor stepped forward too, his broad shoulders drawn and head held high as he stalked Yuuri. There was no other word for it, matched with his fierce gaze. 

This was a hunter stalking his prey.

_ “I don't wanna be friends...” _

Yuuri felt alive the way Victor’s eyes were glued to him, attention riveted on Yuuri. It was exactly what he wanted, blood running hot in his veins.

_ “I don't wanna be friends,” _

He could feel the heat in Victor’s gaze was being mirrored back to him, heart skipping a beat in his chest as he realised that he wasn’t even trying to be his sexy character, that he wasn’t putting on the facade. Victor just made him  _ feel _ like that. He made Yuuri feel beautiful, desirable,  _ wanted. _

_ “Want your bad romance,” _

Victor’s hands snaked around Yuuri’s waist, their bodies drawing close as the tempo built, as the singer’s voice got more desperate. Yuuri’s hands smoothed over Victor’s shoulders, sending shivers down the Russian’s spine as their skin grazed through the mesh. They were so close, Yuuri’s mouth just centimeters away-

_ “Want your bad romance! _ ”

The beat slammed back.

Hands tightened all at once. Victor twisted - heart leaping in his chest the way it always did when he jumped - and Yuuri soared back through the air as Victor threw him over his hip. The lunge he landed in was beautiful, back arched and head thrown back like he was-

Victor pulled him to his feet and crashed their bodies together. 

_ “I want your love and _

_ I want your revenge _

_ You and me could write a bad romance,” _

Victor felt like he was dancing on air as he and Yuuri stepped and twisted, bodies arching, arms bold as they stepped and twirled along the floor with dizzying speed. Yuuri’s skirt span around his hips, the flash of crimson mesmerising.

_ “I want your love and _

_ All your lovers revenge, _

_ You and me could write a bad romance,” _

Victor felt dangerous as he pulled Yuuri across the dancefloor with breathtaking prowess, just like his character in their story. His eyes were bold, his expression intently focussed. He clung to Yuuri with every step, but it didn’t feel like a show. It didn’t feel like an act. If they screwed up, then Yuuri really would slip through Victor’s fingers and Victor didn’t dare linger on the bitter twist in his chest at the thought of it being over.

He wasn’t careful though. He let himself pull Yuuri harshly into twists, rough as they hauled each other around the dancefloor. It was fine; Yuuri could take it.

_ “Oh-oh-oh-oh-ooh! Want your bad romance,” _

_ Caught in a bad romance,” _

Yuuri sank into Victor’s embrace as the music softened, fingers digging too hard into Victor’s hands but not willing to let them go. He couldn’t let them go. 

It would hurt Yuuri more if it was over tonight, if they got voted off and he never got to dance with Victor again. A stiff hand was the least he could give Victor. He wanted it to hurt, wanted Victor to look at his hand and think of  _ him  _ even after Yuuri was gone-

_ “Oh-oh-oh-oh-ooh! Want your bad romance _

_ Caught in a bad romance,” _

Still, Yuuri kept his back ramrod straight, even as he leaned in close to Victor, itching to be near him. He was still proud. He didn’t  _ need  _ Victor, but by God, did he  _ want _ him. 

His legs ached. All the steps on his toes and harsh heel snaps were taking their toll, an ache running down Yuuri’s calves. He didn’t dare give up though - not when they were so close! He arched his hip out a little more, caught Victor’s eye from through his eyelashes, parted his lips ever so slightly. He was the tastiest pork cutlet bowl, the most beautiful woman in town - because of Victor.

_ “Rah rah ah-ah-ah! _

_ Ro mah ro-mah-mah,” _

The beat clapped. 

Yuuri held Victor’s eye as they spun violently in each other’s arms, like they itched to tear away but at the same time, couldn’t bear to let go. Their hands held fast, clinging to each other. Yuuri’s heels clacked hard against the dance floor with his fast footwork, body arching with Victor’s twists. 

_ “Gaga oh-la-la!” _

Yuuri looked away - and wrenched his hands from Victor’s, casting himself away out of the Russian’s grasp. He spun away.

_ “Want your bad romance.” _

Yuuri wrapped his arms around himself as the beat cut, hip cocked out and glancing back over his shoulder. He wondered if Victor was still watching him, still looking. He hoped he was…

In that moment though, all he could think about was the silence ringing through the ballroom in the wake of the music, the breaths rasping through his lungs sounding thunderous. Blood was pounding in his ears. Vaguely, he could feel his fingertips trembling over his arms. 

Then slowly, the applause seeped through.

Yuuri felt the heat rush to his face as the noise from the audience hit him, a small, stunned smile flickering over his face. Vaguely, he thought he heard a voice that sounded like Mari’s yelling his name.

He felt light, a pocket of air swelling in his chest as his arms fell from around him. The next breath left him in a rush, shoulders slumping with inexplicable relief.

“Yuuri!”

Yuuri’s eyes were already bright when they found Victor, lips already curving in a smile. Victor looked so radiant, arms spread wide as he closed the gap.

“That was the tastiest pork cutlet bowl I’ve ever seen!” he said into Yuuri’s shoulder, hugging Yuuri tight to his chest. 

Yuuri’s eyes fluttered shut against the mesh of Victor’s shirt, heart feeling impossibly full.

He was still running high on adrenaline as Victor peeled them apart and led him by the hand to the judges table, fingers tight around his own. Yuuri clung back desperately too, a strange feeling clawing in his gut. Was he happy? Was he disappointed? He wasn’t sure, honestly. All he knew was that his heart was still beating fast and that Victor’s hand was warm.

Victor was still smiling as he chatted with the presenter, casting an encouraging grin across to Yuuri every few beats. It made Yuuri’s heart skip a beat.

He shifted uncomfortably in his heels. Suddenly, he was missing his flats. His ankles ached and he couldn’t wait to sit down, to lie down, to get out of the lights and throw an arm over his eyes, and just  _ breathe.  _ It wouldn’t be long, he told himself, willing himself to see it out a bit longer. He just had to get through the judging-

_ The judging _ .

Yuuri blinked at the judges, seeing mouths moving but not listening to any of the words. He forced himself to pay attention. It would give him a good indication of if he needed to save any energy for later or not.

He didn’t  _ feel _ like he’d done badly. 

He hadn’t obviously messed up or fled off the floor like last week, but the further into the competition they got the more Yuuri was aware that just not being  _ bad _ may not be enough. The other couples weren’t  _ bad _ either. A lot were actually good dancers. And they had professional partners with well thought through, planned routines compared to his and Victor’s hastily assembled choreography…

The head judge leaned back in his chair. 

Yuuri sucked in a breath through his teeth, heart dropping down to his stomach.  _ Oh no- _

“With the Paso, a lot of the time it becomes gimmicky and stompy,” he said, tone unreadable. 

_ Their dance had had gimmicks _ , Yuuri thought with dread. _ Their dance had had stamps… _

He held his breath.

“But you included a good number of actual dance elements in there,” the judge went on, a smile cracking on his face and a twinkle sparkling in his eye. “It really flowed and that made it a great dance.”

The air left Yuuri in a rush, smile breathing over his face. His eyes shifted along to the next judge.

“I have to agree,” her head shook with a charming smile. “The dance was phenomenal. It was smooth, it had rhythm - it was a  _ dance _ , not just a performance and I really appreciate that.”

Victor’s hand tightened around Yuuri’s and Yuuri felt a lump lodge in his throat, blinking fast.

They’d done it.

“Actually, I have to confess,” Victor said to the judges, an honest gleam in his eye. “A lot of the dance elements came fro-”

“Victor working exceptionally hard,” Yuuri cut off before he could say anything. Yuuri knew what he was doing. He leaned into Victor’s side, palm pressing to Victor’s shoulder. “He really put a lot in this week and really deserves all the credit.”

Because he did. One week of Yuuri chipping in ideas wasn’t enough to overshadow the weeks of unseen effort from Victor. Yuuri wouldn’t let it.

When Yuuri glanced up to him, Victor’s eyes were glowing.

For the first time, it was Yuuri who took Victor’s hand and let him up to the balcony, smile on his face and steps sure. He wasn’t sure of the last time he’d felt so confident - really! Not just for a performance, but genuinely calm. The blood pounding in his ears drowned out any bickering thoughts in his head as he pulled Victor to their marker on the balcony, smile still frozen on his face.

“Well, well, well!” the second presenter greeted with a beam and rousing cheer from the audience. “Yuuri’s back!”

“No,” Victor smiled before Yuuri could say anything, slinging an arm around Yuuri’s waist and pulling him close. “It’s not that Yuuri’s back. That was a new Yuuri we hadn’t seen before.”

Yuuri couldn’t help himself smiling a little wider at that.

“The scores are in.”

For once, Yuuri didn’t care about the scores. He’d done himself proud. He’d done Victor proud. The glow in Victor’s eyes said as much, and that was as much as Yuuri could ever possibly hope for, no matter what any judge said.

He was happy.

Actually, he was more than happy.

When he bumped to third in the leader board though, he wasn’t exactly disappointed either.

* * *

Yuuri spotted his family in the front row while there was a break in filming, the lights getting tested for the upcoming results. He nearly went over to say ‘hi’ - until Victor was already walking back to him from them, shaking his head with a smile.

“I wouldn’t,” he simply said. “They’re busy voting.”

Sure enough, when Yuuri took a closer look, all three members of his family had their nose buried in their phone, furiously dialling and calling on repeat.

Warmth bloomed in his chest despite itself, Yuuri sucking in a shaky breath. He would never not love his family and be forever grateful for how eternally supportive they always were. He’d never really thought about it before then, something he guessed he’d always known deep down but had never really  _ thought  _ about. Were it not for Victor, he wondered when he would have. 

It was just another way Victor had managed to crack open his guard - opening his eyes to the love around him - without even realising.

* * *

However many votes the Katsuki’s had managed to frantically call, they clearly hadn’t been alone. 

When Yuuri and Victor’s names were called second in the results show, Yuuri was too happy to care about being shocked, or nervous, or guilty about whoever might go out while he stayed. He simply turned in Victor’s arms, pushed up in his heels and flung his arms tight around Victor’s neck. He could feel Victor’s heart hammering against his ribcage. It was the single most grounding thing he’d ever felt in his whole life.

* * *

“To Yuuri!” 

Victor cheered later in his apartment, himself and the Katsuki’s crammed around his tiny dining table that was not built for more than two, but somehow making it work. It was cramped. It was cosy. With anybody else, it would have been too awkward. 

The Katsuki’s had a way of somehow melting away those tensions though, nothing but warmth and smiles that made Victor feel relaxed in a way he hadn’t in years.

The smiles around the table echoed back the feeling.

“How is it?” Yuuri asked, when the glasses hit the table again though, eyes fixed on Victor. They were wide and eager.

Victor didn’t hesitate. 

He lifted his bowl closer to his mouth and after a clumsy fumble with his chopsticks, took a savouring bite of pork cutlet. Flavours burst on his tongue, eyes fluttering in bliss as he chewed. He could see why it was Yuuri’s favourite.

It wouldn’t have been a real celebration without the famous Katsudon making an appearance. Yuuri’s mother had insisted she make it for everyone and Victor had been only too eager to encourage her. He wanted to know everything, to experience everything about Yuuri. The food behind his thoughts for the Paso Doble was one of them.

He had to say, he wasn’t disappointed.

Yuuri’s eyes were glowing when Victor reopened his, staring perhaps just a little too long at the hopeful smile on Yuuri’s face. 

Yuuri didn’t look away though.

Pressing his lips together, Victor brushed a stray smudge of rice off Yuuri’s cheek with his thumb, letting it linger. He felt Yuuri’s skin grow warm under his touch. “Perfect,” he said fondly, food the last thing on his mind. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song for this week was of course [Lady Gaga's Bad Romance](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qrO4YZeyl0I).  
Sorry this took so long. Got some bad news recently that made things a little difficult.

**Author's Note:**

> So the song I envisioned for this is [Alesha Dixon's Boy Does Nothing](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nAeLZs1JSR8) because it's one of the songs I used to practise to back in the days when I did ballroom and latin dancing.
> 
> Thanks for reading and hope you enjoyed it!


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